Best Served Cold
by isabella2004
Summary: A series of letters, phone calls and unfortunate events leads Ben Stone to fear that his nemesis, Philip Swann, is out for revenge and has his sights set on Ben's family.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my next story! If you're new here, it would help to read _Perceptions, Wreckage _and _Salvation _first.**

**I own nothing and nobody that you recognise from the show.**

**Prologue**

**March 1997**

I hated the man, perhaps more than I had ever hated anyone.

Well, maybe not more than _anyone. _ After all, I had always hated Edward Burns but he was dead and therefore, in some way, no longer counted.

So, yes, I hated this man more than I had ever hated anyone.

Especially now.

He hadn't changed. He hadn't changed in four years any more than he had in the previous eight. He still wore the same supercilious smile he had perfected the first day I had ever laid eyes on him at his first arraignment and he still rose from the table and extended his hand as though we were old friends or colleagues. The very gesture made me feel sick, as though I could ever consider him anything more than what he was.

_A cold-blooded killer._

_A dangerous man._

_A threat._

"Ben...what a lovely surprise," he said in that same, laconic drawl that I had so often heard in my dreams. "As you can imagine, I don't get many visitors. You find out who your real friends are when you end up in a place like this." I ignored both his gesture and greeting and simply sat down opposite him, hoping and praying that I could get through this meeting without doing or saying something that I would live to regret. "You're looking well," he continued as though there was no animosity between us. "Being back at the DA's office obviously agrees with you far more than academia ever did."

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, at the notion that he had kept any kind of tabs on my life or career but then, that was why I was here after all, to put a stop to any thought he might possess of trying to slime his way into my world.

"How is your lovely wife? I saw her on television again the other day speaking at a rally. She really is quite beautiful. You're a very lucky man..."

"You listen to me," I leaned forward, keeping my voice low so as not to draw the attention of the guard outside, my blood pounding in my head with every word. "You stay away from her."

His face broke into a wide smile, full of innocence. "Ben...what a strange request. Didn't you notice the security on your way in? The bars on the windows? The locks on the doors? The dogs in the yard? I'm in prison. How could I be anywhere near her?"

He looked so smug, so sure of himself that it was all I could do to restrain myself from reaching across the table, grabbing him by his shirt and...well...I hadn't got that far in my mind. I wasn't a violent person, not really, but for him I could make an exception.

Him and Edward Burns.

I had never had my chance with Burns but I was on edge enough to know that I could be sorely tempted with this little creep.

"I'm not joking around here," I said as calmly as I could. "You stay away from her. You don't call her, you don't write to her..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he blinked. "You can check my list of approved numbers and addresses..."

"Don't worry I will and if I find out that you're behind this..."

"You'll do what? Make sure I have a little accident in here? No..." he shook his head, almost as if to rebuke himself. "That's not really your style, is it Ben? You play it too straight, too down the middle, too safe...you're too much of a..._boy scout_...to risk doing something like that."

Continuing the conversation was pointless. He knew where I stood, even if he _was _choosing to play the innocent with me. I got to my feet and glared down at him. "You might think that you're clever, but I _know_ you. I'm warning you now. Stay away from my family."

"I wouldn't _dream_ of coming near your family," he said, as I turned for the door. "Teenage baseball players don't really interest me. Teenage artists...not really my thing either and infants, well..."

I kept walking, despite my heart pounding at the things that he seemed to know.

_Peter...Pamela...Kate..._

"Beautiful, passionate wives though..."

I stopped and turned back to face him, hating the mirthful look in his eyes, the playful smile around the corners of his mouth, in fact, hating everything about him.

"But I wouldn't," he shook his head almost sorrowfully. "I mean, poor Evelyn. She's already been through so much...hasn't she?"

The cold air hit me when I finally got back outside, making my head spin and my stomach contract. I had sat across from so many strange, evil, deluded, crazy people in the course of my career but there was something about that man...something about Philip Swann, that affected me more than any of the others ever had.

As I jammed my key into the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot at a speed far quicker than I had intended, I knew that I was going to have to tell her everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**January 1997**

**6 weeks earlier**

I knew I should have been listening to what she was saying but my mind was wandering shamelessly. I wasn't thinking about the case that we were prepping for trial, or about the twenty phone calls I should have made that day and hadn't gotten around to, or about the fact that Arthur Gold had managed to convince a judge to grant one of his frivolous motions earlier that morning much to my chagrin. No...it was the end of my second week back at the DA's office and all I could think about was getting home to my family.

"So, what do you think?"

Her voice brought me suddenly back into the present moment. "Sorry, what?"

My assistant Vanessa's eyes narrowed. "Ben, have you been listening to anything I've been saying for the last ten minutes?"

"Honestly? No."

She stared at me, clearly surprised by my answer and then her face broke into a smile, "Well at least you're honest."

"Can we pick this up again on Monday?" I asked, gathering up the papers on my desk and putting them to one side for me to reconsider once the next working week had begun.

"Sure," she got to her feet. "Any plans for this weekend?"

"Nothing in particular. Evelyn mentioned about taking Kate swimming again so no doubt we might do that."

"You said she loved it the last time."

"She did." I switched off my desk lamp and moved over to the coat stand, the image of my baby daughter splashing in the water, her face full of nothing but joy, flashing suddenly through my mind and spurring me even more to get home. "Pamela's going out on a date," I added as a sudden afterthought.

"Ooh..." Vanessa looked at me sympathetically. "Her first?"

"Well the first she's told us about and the first one who's coming to the apartment to collect her."

"Oh, that's nice. I like chivalrous men."

I shivered slightly at the thought of describing anyone my teenage daughter could be dating as a _man._ "Let's just pretend he's a boy, ok?"

"Ok," she grinned as we reached the elevator. "I'll finish up that brief and leave it on your desk before I go home."

"Vanessa, it's after six on a Friday night. Leave the brief until Monday and go home to your own family."

"You know..." she cocked her head to one side, "People told me that you could be a difficult guy to work with at times but, honestly, I'm not seeing it."

I smiled as the doors opened and I stepped inside, "Be grateful you weren't working for me ten years ago." The doors slid shut and I let out a long, decompressing breath as the car descended down to the lobby. She was right to be surprised. I knew myself how people in the office had often viewed me. A hard taskmaster who expected great things from his assistants and demanded the best work and, to an extent, I could admit that I was still that way inclined. But things seemed very different now than they ever had before.

As I walked outside into the cold evening air, I couldn't help but compare my life now with what it had been when my eldest children were small. In my thirties I had been so desperate to build my career, to succeed, to do well, to impress whomever happened to be sitting in the DA's chair and I had had a wife who didn't work so I could afford to work long hours and holidays and weekends and knew that my children were well cared for. My dedication had ultimately ruined my first marriage but, at the time, it had certainly seemed worth it until I had realised that I barely knew my children and, worse, they didn't want to spend any time with me.

Things seemed so different now. Peter was six months into his first year at Michigan, loving the freedom that being an adult was bringing him and yet his tone on the phone occasionally sounded somewhat wistful, as though he was homesick but trying not to show it. When I had dropped him at the airport after Christmas for his return flight, he had hugged me tighter than I think he had ever hugged me. It had certainly been a different farewell from when I had taken him to his dorm the first weekend before classes began and he was desperate for me to leave lest I cramped his style. Pamela was becoming more and more independent, not to mention moody, by the day and was already considering where she might like to eventually study, though her mind had definitely been more on the opposite sex of late. When I had spoken to their mother about both of them over the holidays, Laura had told me that I needed to let them both grow up and that if I interfered too much, they would simply rebel. I had refrained from getting into an argument with her about it. Things between us had been fairly stable for some time now and rocking the boat was the last thing I wanted to do.

I managed to hail a cab easily, despite the weather and the traffic, and as I sat back in the seat for the journey home, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see my family. Although Evelyn had never put any conditions on my returning to the DA's office, I had made several of my own, including that I was going to try my hardest to be home at a reasonable hour every night. I didn't want Kate to ever feel the way that I knew her brother and sister had felt in years gone by and I had no intention of ruining my second marriage, especially not after everything we had already been through.

It took less time than I expected to get home and, when I did, I immediately felt the stresses of work melt away. I was home and nothing else mattered now except family. I could hear the sound of the radio coming from the kitchen intermingled with periodic squeals of delight and when I walked in I saw Kate sat in her highchair gleefully moving spaghetti around on the tray and laughing to herself.

"Hi sweetie," I greeted her, kissing the top of her head. "Wow that looks good." She looked up at me and grinned, proudly displaying all of her four front teeth. "Where's Mama?"

"Here...sorry, I needed to pee and now seemed as good a time as any." Evelyn appeared beside me, her hair scraped back, her face devoid of makeup, splashes of sauce on her sweater and yet, she couldn't have looked more perfect to me. "How was your day?"

"Fine," I replied, kissing her quickly. "I had a motion hearing with Arthur Gold so, you can imagine..."

"I can and I sympathise. You sure you have no regrets about leaving Columbia?"

"Not so far. How was _your_ day?"

"Good," she nodded. "I managed to make some phone calls and do some work while she was napping earlier but, if I'm being honest, I'm not sure this working from home thing is going to be successful long term."

"How come?"

She shrugged. "I can't really concentrate when I'm here. I'd rather spend my time with this little one so I end up doing less than half of what I need to get done. I'm thinking I might be better asking Marion if I can go down to three days. What do you think?"

I slid my arm around her waist, "I think you need to do what you feel is best."

"It would mean less money..."

"The money doesn't matter," I reassured her. "I want you to be happy."

"I _am _happy," she looked up at me. "The fact that I can work a few days a week and spend time with Kate is great and, by all accounts, she's loving daycare..."

"What?" I asked as she trailed off.

"I don't know...I guess that I don't want you to think that I don't want to stay at home with her all the time. I don't want you to think that I'm not being a good mom because I work too."

I turned her to face me, hating the fact that she might be doubting herself for a decision that had been made in order to preserve the good state of her mental health. "We talked about this, remember? You said right at the beginning that you thought it would be good for you to work part time and I agreed. I've never once said that I thought you should stay at home. I know it's tough looking after this one all day."

"I know, but Laura..."

"Don't compare yourself to her," I said firmly. "Look how that turned out for all of us."

"You're right. I know you're right."

"Of course I am," I bent to kiss her, lingering a little too long. "We'll have the place pretty much to ourselves later..."

"I can't wait," she laughed, kissing me back. "We won't have to worry about noise travelling."

"Oh, speaking of which..." it wasn't a direct lead in but it was the next best thing. "I got this through today."

I watched as she scanned the piece of paper I had retrieved from my pocket, her eyes flitting across each line towards the bottom of the page, her lashes slowly blinking and her eyebrows rising as she reached the end before she raised her head to look at me. Something told me I wasn't about to get the reaction I had hoped for.

"You're not serious."

"What? That was the cheapest quote out of the three!"

"And it's extortionate!"

"Well we're not talking about a two bed walk up here, Evelyn. We're talking about renovating a whole house."

"Not for this price we're not. That quote is out by a good couple of thousand at least!"

I took the paper from her and looked at it again, the figures jumbling before my eyes as I surveyed the breakdown and then focused on the final figure. I had to admit that it _was _high but, as I had said, I'm not sure what else she had expected. "So it's a no?"

"It's a definite no," she replied, lifting a cloth, wiping Kate's face and hands and then lifting off the tray and depositing it in the sink. "I thought the point was to try to spend as little money as possible?"

"Of course, in an ideal world but...come on, we have to spend something. The house isn't going to fix itself."

"No, I suppose not." She turned on the hot water and stood watching as it flowed into the sink and over the tray.

I could feel her trepidation. "You don't want to do this, do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"I can tell by your whole body language. Are you having second thoughts?"

"No...I guess it's just..." she turned to face me. "I guess I thought we would never actually see the sale go through. I guess I thought someone else would get there before us, or that the mortgage wouldn't be approved. I wasn't sure we'd ever be in the position of actually having to consider renovating."

I could understand where she was coming from. From showing her the house in the Hudson Valley that afternoon back in September after Elizabeth and Mike's wedding, it had taken a lot of legal wrangling, not to mention a heap of stress with the mortgage application, right up until the end of the year to successfully secure it. Now that we had, the task before us was to set about making it a home for our family, something that I had to admit I was secretly relishing.

"Ok," I said, "we'll go back to the drawing board, look at some other contractors and see if we can't get a cheaper quote."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a killjoy," she crossed over the room and kissed me gently. "It's just such a big project and, I'll be honest, it scares me a little. What if it all goes wrong and we end up penniless and out on the streets?"

"I promise you that is _not_ going to happen," I said, putting my arms around her as the front door banged shut. "I would never see any of you out in the cold."

"Who's cold?" Pamela asked, coming into the kitchen and tossing her bag onto the floor. "Is dinner ready yet? I'm _starving._"

"Nice to see you too," I greeted her, "_How was your day Dad? _Oh it was fine honey, how about yours?"

She rolled her heavily mascara-ed eyes at me from under the thick bangs she had had styled into her hair some months earlier. That and her penchant for dressing entirely in black made her look somewhat menacing, though she hadn't taken the comment well when I had originally made it. "Sorry, I didn't realise we had to do a whole Walton-esque style greeting every time we came home."

"I thought you were going out for dinner tonight?" Evelyn said.

"No, we're only going to the movies. He's not picking me up until seven-thirty."

"Well it's spaghetti. Is that on your approved list of foods this week?"

"Fine..." Pamela let out an over-exaggerated sigh. "I'm going to get changed."

"You'd think she'd be excited about going out on her date," I observed as she flounced out of the room and into her bedroom, banging the door behind her. "What do we know about this guy anyway?"

"Only that his name's Andrew and they met at art class."

"Hmm...maybe I should have a talk with him when he gets here."

"Maybe you should do no such thing," Evelyn warned me. "She's sixteen, Ben."

"Exactly! I don't want him thinking that he can tell us that he's taking her to the movies when he's really taking her somewhere to, well, you know..."

"Have sex?"

I blushed and squirmed at the thought, "Something like that." Reaching over, I unclipped Kate from her seat and lifted her into my arms. "This one isn't going to be allowed out until she's thirty."

"By which time you'll be in your eighties and most likely unable to take on anyone."

"Don't you believe it," I replied, "I'll still be able to defend this family, walking stick, wheelchair...whatever."

She came forward and kissed me on the cheek. "Yes Papa Bear. Why don't you go and wash up and then we can have dinner before Pam's date gets here? It'll give you a chance to prepare your cross."

"Fine," I made a face at her and then handed Kate over. "Oh, I lifted the mail on my way up and there's a letter there for you. I left it on the coffee table."

She turned back to the sink. "Great, thanks."

As I approached the bathroom, Pamela came flying out of her room and rushed past me, closing the door firmly behind her in a gesture that indicated she could, and would, be some time. "Perfect," I mumbled to myself as I loosened my tie and headed for the bedroom instead thinking, not for the first time, how trying it could be living with three women. "I'll just pee out of the window."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews so far!**

The sensation of the hot water on my body was like being given a full body massage. I felt the tension of the day melt away, along with the grime that came with chasing after a fast moving nine month old who had turned crawling into an Olympic sport. As I soaped my body and the fragrance of coconut and honey filled the air, I let out a long breath and gave thanks that it was finally the weekend. It wasn't that I didn't feel confident in my own abilities as a mother, but it was nice having the security blanket of Ben parenting alongside me. He was so good with Kate, so patient and attentive and without needing to say it, I knew that he was desperately trying to make up for what he perceived as being the sins of the past.

As I watched the last of the suds disappear down the plughole, stepped out onto the rug and started drying myself, I found myself wondering, as I often did, how different things might have been if any of my previous pregnancies had gone to term. There was no way that Edward would have been anywhere near the kind of father Ben was. When I imagined it, I saw myself struggling with a newborn whilst Edward went out with friends or sat on the couch ignoring his child. More to the point, I saw myself being forced into doing things that I didn't want to do weeks, maybe even days, after giving birth. A shiver ran through me despite the steam in the bathroom and I pushed the thought from my mind.

Joyfully, I pulled on my sweatpants and t-shirt, grateful that Ben didn't expect me to make any kind of effort for him at the end of a long day, and opened the bathroom door in time to hear him and Pamela arguing. It wasn't anything new. Over the last few weeks in particular she had become more and more outspoken about the house rules and what she saw as being our attempts to stifle her artistic creativity. It was slightly bewildering for me being thrust in at the deep end of teenage parenting and often made me think back as to how I had treated my own parents at that age.

"I don't care, you are _not_ going out dressed like that!"

"For God's sake Dad, you're such a dinosaur! Everybody dresses like this, _everybody!_"

"I don't care what _everybody_ does Pamela. You are _my_ daughter and while you live under _my_ roof you will not leave this apartment looking like a streetwalker!"

As I ventured back into the living room, I immediately saw what had irked him. Pamela was dressed in her usual shade of black, but her top was cut so low as to reveal far more of her ample cleavage than was strictly necessary and her skirt slashed so high that it left little to the imagination. I fought down the ridiculous pang of envy that I hadn't had her figure when I was her age and tried to tread the fine line between friend and stepmother. "Wow."

She turned to face me, her face made up in a way that made her look far older than her years, and eyed me suspiciously. "Wow bad or wow good?"

"Well..." I glanced at Ben who raised his eyebrows at me. "You know Pam, I was always told that you should highlight one thing about your body. So, it should be chest _or_ legs, not both." She frowned. "Now, you're lucky in that both your chest and your legs are great but, if I were you, I would choose one and cover the other up a bit."

"But I _like_ this outfit and so does Andrew."

"I bet he does," Ben muttered, hoisting Kate up in his arms. "What hormonal teenage boy wouldn't?"

"He's not a boy," Pamela rounded on him. "He's nineteen!"

"Nineteen?!"

"And don't turn around and say I can't go out with him because I'm going whether you like it or not!"

"What about those new jeans you bought the other day?" I interrupted before the conversation took a whole other unfortunate direction.

"What about them?"

"I think they would look great with that top. They're skinny jeans, right? They'll show off your legs without, you know, showing them _off_." I waited, watching as she seemed to consider this and silently trying to communicate to Ben to stay quiet. After a moment, she nodded and moved past me back towards her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"Nineteen?" Ben echoed when we were alone. "_Nineteen?!"_

"And she's sixteen, so what?"

"Jesus Evelyn..."

"One battle at a time," I said, taking Kate from him. "If you push this then she's going to go out with him regardless most likely dressed in even less."

"Did you act like this when you were her age?"

"No, I didn't have the balls to. You should be grateful that she's got some spark about her."

"Grateful?" he shook his head. "Forgive me, but right now all I want to do is chain her to her bed." The door opened and Pamela reappeared, dressed in the jeans that I had suggested. "Well, that looks a little better."

"You look great," I said as she turned to look at me. "And you'll be warmer too. It's cold out there today." She shrugged her shoulders and moved over to the hooks behind the door, lifting a small leather jacket and putting it on. "Maybe your coat would be a better choice."

"I like this jacket."

"Is Andrew coming up here to get you?" Ben asked.

"No I said I'd get him out front."

"It might be nice if we got to meet him."

Pamela rolled her eyes, "Yeah right. Don't wait up."

"Uh...hold on a minute." She paused, her hand on the door. "Home by ten-thirty."

"Dad..."

"I'm serious!"

"It's Friday night for God's sake and I'm sixteen! Everybody gets to stay out until at least midnight! If I have to come home at ten-thirty I'm going to look like a complete idiot and Andrew's going to think I'm pathetic!"

"If he thinks that then he's not worth dating, is he?"

"This is so unfair!"

"Maybe we could compromise," I said. "How about eleven-thirty?" They both looked at me. "Sound fair?"

"Ok," Ben said after a long moment, "but not a minute later, ok?"

"Fine..." Pamela wrenched the door open, dashed outside and let it slam behind her.

"Phew," I said as silence descended again. "Crisis averted. Do you want a beer or something?" I hoisted Kate onto my hip and turned back towards the kitchen. "I got some the other day when I was at the market. I was tempted to get myself some wine but we all know how _that _would most likely turn out so I opted for soda instead." I laughed to myself in the way only I could. Making a joke out of a drinking problem wouldn't be to everyone's taste but it certainly helped keep me from taking a step that could potentially lead to disaster, even though I hadn't really craved any alcohol since becoming sober two and half years earlier. I lifted a bottle out of the fridge and turned to hand it to Ben, only to find him looking at me with a concerned expression. "What?"

"I know you're only trying to help..." he said.

"But?"

"But at the end of the day she's _my_ daughter and I should be the one to set the rules for her."

I straightened up and met his gaze. "You're saying I undermined you?"

"Not about the clothes, that was fine, but about her curfew. I said ten-thirty for good reason. She might be sixteen but she's still a child at the end of the day and I'm responsible for her. You jumping in and taking her side doesn't really help."

"I wasn't taking her side. I was trying to diffuse the situation. If you'd stuck rigidly to ten-thirty then she might have stayed out later just to spite you and then things would have escalated. This way, she gets a little more time but she's still home at a decent hour."

"But in her eyes, she gets to play you and I against each other," he said. "So the next time this happens, she'll look to you to back her up against me."

"That isn't..." I broke off, not really wanting to end up in a fight with him about it. Not when it was Friday night and we had the place more or less to ourselves. "Ok, you're right. I'm sorry. I should have kept out of it. She _is_ your daughter and you need to set the boundaries."

"It's not that I'm not grateful," he said, stepping towards me and taking the beer from my hand. "I know it's been a big adjustment for you these last few years and especially now we have Kate but...I just don't want her behaviour to cause division between us. We need to be on the same page."

"Yeah, I get that." I kissed him, hoping to change the subject. "I'll go and put Kate down and then we can watch a movie or something. You can pick, so long as it's nothing boring or historical."

"When have I ever picked anything boring or historical?"

"I've seen your video collection, remember?" I carried Kate into the bedroom and started getting her undressed, my mind going over what Ben had just said. It was the first time that he had ever accused me of taking Pamela's side against him and, despite agreeing that it was his job to parent her, part of me couldn't help but feel as though I had done nothing wrong. I lived in the apartment too. It was my home and I should surely have some say in trying to keep the peace. Since we had gotten married and all started living together there had been some ups and downs but generally my relationship with both teenagers had always been good and I was desperate to keep it that way.

_Maybe you're trying too hard to be good cop though. Maybe you're trying too hard to make up for the past. Maybe you need to remember it's not always about being their friend._

"Maybe..." I said to myself as my daughter looked up and me and laughed. "At least I get a definite half say in what _you_ get up to though."

Twenty minutes later, having fed Kate her last bottle and sung her our special lullaby, I left her twinkling in her crib, crept out of the room and softly closed the door over, finally free of all parental responsibility for at least a few hours. Ben was sat on the couch flicking through the channels and as I flopped down beside him, I caught sight of the letter he had mentioned still sat on the coffee table.

"Did you pick a movie?" I asked, lifting it and ripping it open.

"What about _Hamlet_?" he asked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

"I think that qualifies as both historical _and_ boring." I pulled the contents of the envelope out and frowned. "Hmm..."

"What?"

"It's a newspaper clipping." It was an article from the previous week's _Ledger_ about a speech I had given at a conference on behalf of Women In Need. We were currently knee deep in fundraising and the opportunity to speak at a womens' business networking event had been too good to pass up. The article summarised the main points of my speech and also included a rather unflattering photograph of me. I checked the envelope for any letter or note but there was nothing.

"Who's it from?" Ben asked, taking it from me.

"No idea. Maybe someone in the office thought I'd like it and forgot to include a note. I don't recognise the handwriting on the envelope though and it's post marked Clinton County." I racked my brains, but could think of nobody I knew who lived in that area.

"Maybe you've got a fan," he suggested, handing it back to me.

"Maybe...well, whoever it's from I guess it's nice that they took the time to cut it out and send it." I crumpled it in my hand and tossed it onto the table.

"Don't you want to keep it?"

"No, I've already got a copy," I said, blushing slightly at what he might think of me keeping clippings of myself, wondering if perhaps he would think it egotistical.

_Or perhaps you need to remember that it's ok to be proud of yourself and your achievements._

_ Perhaps you need to remember that Ben isn't Eddie._

"That's good," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. "It'll be nice for Kate to see all these things when she's older."

"Yeah," I agreed, snuggling down into him. "I guess you're right."

The rest of the evening passed quickly. We couldn't agree on a movie so, taking advantage of the almost empty apartment, we made love on the couch then, once our bodies had cooled, drank hot chocolate and watched the news before retiring to bed shortly before eleven-thirty so that Pamela wouldn't think we had deliberately waited up for her. A few minutes after her curfew, I heard the front door open and close followed by the bathroom door and finally her own bedroom.

"I guess you were right," Ben said quietly. "Maybe I _should_ let you set the rules after all."

"No, I think it's best if you do it," I replied. "That way when she goes completely off the rails I'll be able to stand back and say that it was nothing to do with me."

"Very funny," he tickled me and I squirmed away from him. "I should have said thank you."

"For what?"

"For being willing to take on my kids in the first place."

I rolled over to face him, his outline barely visible in the dark. "You come as a package and I really wouldn't have had it any other way. Besides, I think it's _me_ who should be thanking _you_. We both know who got the raw end of the deal in this relationship."

"Don't say that," he said urgently, pulling me against him. "You're my wife and I love you and the past is the past. Gone. Dead. Buried. We've come a long way together and I wouldn't have missed any of it."

"Are you sure?" I took his hand and drew it down to my abdomen where the jagged scar was an ever present reminder of that fateful night outside my apartment over three years earlier. It was strange to think sometimes that if it had never happened, if I had never been shot, then we would possibly already have another child. An older sister or brother for Kate. But then, had events not turned out as they had, perhaps we would never have had Kate and the thought of being without her filled me with dread.

"I'm positive," he replied, kissing me gently. "Everything happens for a reason, Evelyn. I have to believe that or...or sometimes I think I'd go mad."

I rolled away from him then pressed my back against his chest and drew his arm down around me until I felt warm, secure and, most of all, safe. He was right. We _had _come a long way together and had we never met, I had no idea what my life would be. It certainly wouldn't be there, in our bed, in our apartment with our baby daughter sleeping a few feet away. Despite everything that had happened, we had so much to be thankful for. _I_ had so much to be thankful for.

"I love you," I whispered, as I felt my eyes grow heavy.

"I love you too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the reviews so far!**

"It's a shame that Pamela wasn't able to join us," Elizabeth said, handing the menus back to the waiter.

"I'm not so sure it is really," I replied. "Her attitude would have probably spoilt brunch."

"Really? Why, what's going on?"

"I don't know. Teenage angst? Everybody is out to get her, none of us understand her and she can't possibly be expected to live under such draconian rules."

Mike snorted into his water glass, "Draconian? She actually used that word?"

"She did."

"What are you doing, locking her in the laundry room?"

"You'd think so the way she's behaving," I sighed. "People think that the toddler stage is the worst but I can personally vouch for the teenage years beating it hands down." I looked over to where Kate was sat in her highchair playing with slices of banana. "And we get to do it all over again in another fifteen years."

Evelyn looked over at me and grinned, "And you wouldn't have it any other way, darling, would you?"

"No, I guess not." The waiter reappeared with our drinks and, as the conversation switched smoothly to a discussion of the recent weather, I sat back for a moment and took in the scene around us. The restaurant was busy with other families, couples and friends all taking advantage of the winter sunshine, a welcome break from the torrential rain that had deluged the city the previous day and determined a Saturday spent indoors.

It had been more than three weeks since we had last brunched with Elizabeth and Mike, such a hiatus caused by the holidays and competing work schedules, so it was nice to finally have a chance to catch up and for Kate to see her de facto godparents. Given the church's position on divorce and second marriages, Evelyn and I had elected not to run the gauntlet of trying to persuade someone to officially christen Kate and had instead held a small civil blessing for her at the Dene Summerhouse in Central Park, attended by only close friends and family. When it had come to deciding who should stand as godparents, Evelyn had had little hesitation in her suggestion and I had been happy to agree. Despite their relationship beginning as doctor and patient, I was glad that Evelyn had become good friends with Elizabeth and though I couldn't assert to being as close with Mike as our wives were, the four of us often socialised together.

"You know, maybe Pamela's missing Peter," Elizabeth said, bringing the conversation back full circle and drawing me back into the present moment. "It must be strange for her being left behind as it were."

"That's what I said," Evelyn nodded. "They've been a little twosome for so many years and now, all of a sudden, she's kind of on her own. Not to mention the fact that she's the only one still technically subject to the court order and needing to travel to Hartford when she would prefer to stay in the city."

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded.

"And she has a boyfriend."

"Ah..."

"Who's nineteen," I added, a shudder going through me again. "I'm sure he's very nice and all but..."

"You haven't met him?" Mike asked.

"Nope."

"Well I don't blame you for being concerned. _We_ were nineteen once, right?"

"Right," I agreed, though I couldn't help but harbour a sneaking suspicion that my experience of being nineteen probably differed quite a bit from his.

"I'd be just the same," Mike shook his head sympathetically. "In fact, I probably _will_ be just the same."

The comment was lost on me, but Evelyn took a sharp intake of breath and I looked quickly over to see her eyes flitting between them both, her mouth open in surprise. "You're not...you are, aren't you? _Aren't you?_" I saw Elizabeth redden slightly and then nod. "Oh my God, that's great!" Evelyn leapt out of her seat and hurried around the table to hug her friend before kissing Mike on the cheek. "Oh my God, I'm so happy for you both!"

"What have I missed?" I asked dumbly and they all laughed.

"Liz is pregnant!" Evelyn exclaimed.

"Really?"

Mike nodded, "Yep."

"That's great, congratulations!" I shook his hand and leaned over to kiss Elizabeth. "I must be losing my touch in my old age."

"Tell me_ everything_," Evelyn said, dropping back into her seat. "When are you due? Do you know what you're having? How long have you known? What did your parents say?"

Elizabeth and Mike both laughed. "I'm due in July, we don't know what we're having, we've known since just before New Year and my parents are thrilled!" she replied with a flourish.

"Liz is desperate for a girl," Mike added. "I'm leaning more towards a boy."

"Well as a father to both I can say without fear of contradiction that girls are much more difficult to handle than boys," I said, thinking back to the defiant look on Pamela's face that morning when she had said that she wasn't going to join us.

"Don't say that," Evelyn said, placing her hands jokingly over Kate's ears. "You'll give her a complex."

The waiter returned to the table with our orders and conversation was momentarily lost in a quest for condiments, cutlery and a second order of drinks. Once we all had what we needed, I looked to Elizabeth again. "You'll need to make sure you take proper precautions from now on if you're interviewing defendants." The moment the words had left my mouth, I felt a slight tension descend over the table and saw her glance quickly at Mike.

"Yes, I suppose so," she said after a moment's silence.

I looked at Evelyn and she looked at me, clearly none the wiser as to why my comment had elicited such a reaction, only for her to suddenly wrinkle her nose. "Oh dear..." putting down her fork, she lifted Kate out of the highchair and pressed her nose to her bottom. "I think someone needs changing."

"I'll come with you," Elizabeth said, practically leaping from her seat. "I could use the practice."

"Big changes coming for you," I said conversationally once Mike and I were alone at the table.

"Yeah, you could say that."

I frowned at his slightly downcast expression. "Are you worried about it?"

He looked up and met my gaze. "I don't know...it's a big thing having a kid and...it's what she wants, what we both want, but..." he sighed, "I don't know if I'm really and truly ready for it."

"I don't think you're ever ready until the moment they put that baby in your arms," I replied honestly. "Somehow, it's almost unreal for us men until we actually physically_ see_ the baby. We can't really know what it's like to carry it, not the way our wives do."

"It's not even just that," he said. "Like Liz said, her parents were thrilled when we told them and the entire conversation then started to revolve around the most prestigious daycares, the best schools, what stroller to buy..." he shook his head. "I can't help but think that everything this kid is going to have is going to come from her and her family and the only thing he or she is going to get from me is my last name."

In light of the reaction to my earlier comment, it wasn't what I had been expecting him to say and I wasn't sure how to respond. I had been lucky with both Laura and Evelyn in that we had all come from similar middling financial backgrounds but Mike and Elizabeth's worlds were so different that it was sometimes hard to fathom how they had come as far as they had. Not that there was anything wrong with Mike. He was strong, supportive and it was clear to everyone that he adored Elizabeth, but at their wedding, I had wondered what Nick and Isobel had really thought about their new son-in-law and his family. Had they really been as thrilled with the match as they had proclaimed, or had they secretly wished that their only daughter had married someone of her own ilk?

"This child is going to be yours, Mike," I said finally. "You will have as much say in how he or she is raised as Liz will and certainly more than her family should. I guess you need to try and learn to pick your battles. Maybe you'll decide that riding around in a three thousand dollar stroller isn't as much of an issue as, say, sending him or her to a three thousand dollar a term kindergarten."

"Jesus..." his face whitened. "Three thousand dollars a _term...?_"

"There we go!" Elizabeth declared as she arrived back at the table with Kate on her hip and Mike instantly smiled broadly. "All clean now!" She sat down next to him again and the two of them cooed over Kate while she laughed and lapped up their attention.

"Where's Evelyn?"

"Oh, she ran into somebody who claimed to know her just as we were coming back in. I think it was someone from the conference she spoke at last week," Elizabeth replied, gesturing over her shoulder.

Following where she had pointed, I could see Evelyn standing talking to a small, blonde woman a few feet away from the entrance to the conservatory. She was nodding and smiling, but I could tell, even with the distance, that she was wearing her 'polite yet disinterested' expression, clearly hoping that the conversation would finish quickly so that she could return to the table. Knowing her as I did, I was aware that it wasn't because she didn't want to talk to the person, but rather because she felt somehow self-conscious about the fact that anyone would consider her opinion worthy of comment.

As the conversation finally came to an end, and the woman turned to afford me a look at her face, I thought for a moment that I recognised her, but found myself unable to accurately place her. "A fan?" I asked as Evelyn took her place back at the table.

"Hardly," she laughed, "she was at the conference and she wanted to pick up on a few points that I had made, that's all."

"What was her name?"

"Michelle...something," she replied, taking Kate back from Elizabeth. "Why?"

"No reason," I shook my head. "I thought she looked familiar, that's all."

The rest of our meal passed in good humour, though the tension I had observed between Mike and Elizabeth lingered until the point when we were all outside on the street bidding each other goodbye.

"I'll call you," Elizabeth said to Evelyn, kissing her on the cheek. "We'll organise dinner one night."

"Sounds great," Evelyn replied. "And I'll look out some of those clothes for you."

"What clothes are these?" I asked, as we started the walk back to our apartment, Kate fussing in the stroller, clearly desperate for her nap.

"I said I'd look out some of my old maternity wear," she replied. "And I've still got some of Kate's early baby things that I can pass on."

"It's a girl?"

"No...well they don't know, but a lot of the smaller outfits I have could do a girl or a boy." She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. "Liz told me when we went to change Kate that Mike isn't happy about her continuing to work for the police department."

"Really? Why not?"

"He's worried that something might happen to her when she's in with a defendant, you know, in case she gets attacked or something."

"Well that's what I was meaning when I mentioned about taking proper precautions," I replied. "As long as she conducts evaluations behind glass, for example, it shouldn't prevent her from working."

"That's what she's trying to convince him of but he's being pretty stubborn about it." She looked over at me. "Remember how you felt."

"Well I was obviously concerned about you generally but there wasn't anything about your work at Women In Need that made me worry for your safety."

"I wasn't meaning when I was carrying Kate," she replied softly. "I meant before."

"Oh...yes, of course. Sorry." Our first child was something I thought about rarely, or at least tried to think about rarely. I felt as though I hadn't known of its existence for long enough to play the concerned expectant father and yet...it had been newly conceived the night Edward had attacked her at the mayoral dinner and I could well remember how I had felt when that fact had been presented to me. Even now, it made my innards contract. "Perhaps Mike _does_ have a point."

"Well it's something they're going to need to talk about."

"That and a few other things," I replied, filling her in briefly on what Mike had said at the table. "They'll need to be on the same page with how they're going to raise this child."

"You can't blame Liz for wanting to give her child every material advantage that she had," Evelyn said.

"Of course not, but she could find a way to compromise, surely? I mean, it's going to be pretty awkward at times if her side of the family are showering the baby with expensive gifts or paying deposits on expensive daycares when Mike knows that neither he nor his family can compete with that."

"I guess we're lucky in that we don't have those kinds of problems," she said, linking her arm through mine.

"No," I agreed, "but I think we've had plenty of our own to contend with, don't you?"

"And we're stronger for it."

"Exactly." I stooped and kissed the top of her nose. "I hope Pam left the heating on before she went out." When we arrived back at the apartment, Evelyn lifted Kate out of the stroller and we walked upstairs together, the sound of loud music greeting us before we had even reached the door. "Great," I muttered, putting the key in the lock. "Another complaint from the neighbours." Opening the door we were met with a wall of sound and Kate immediately woke and started to cry. "I thought she was going out?!"

"Well she's clearly home!" Evelyn replied, her voice barely carrying above the din of whatever it was my teeenage daughter considered to be music.

"Pamela!" I shouted, to no avail. The living room was empty, despite the blaring of the CD player in the corner, and I saw that her bedroom door was tightly closed. I switched off the noise and strode over to the door, not caring about the rule we had agreed of knocking first, and pushed it open.

Immediately, I wished I hadn't.

Pamela was in bed...and she wasn't alone.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt for a moment as though we were all suspended in time. Even Kate stopped caterwauling to look, somewhat bemused, at her older sister as she lay in her bed covered only with a duvet and the body of a young man I could only assume was the elusive Andrew. Nobody spoke for a long moment. Nobody seemed to want to be the first person to break the horrible spell of discovery.

"Dad..."

I could feel rather than see Ben's anger. I didn't want to say anything, didn't want to try to tell how I thought he should feel or react. I could only hope that he wouldn't do anything stupid or rash and I silently begged him not to lay hands on anyone. But I needn't have worried and, knowing him as I did, I should have realised that grabbing Andrew and hauling him out of his daughter's bed wasn't his style.

"Get up and get dressed," he finally said, his voice quiet yet steely then he turned away from the door and moved back into the living room.

Pamela and Andrew both continued to gape at me, until I stepped forward and drew her door closed again, in order to give them the privacy to do as her father had asked, before following him over to where he was now standing by the window looking down to the street below. "Do you want me to go and put Kate down?" In light of our discussions over the last few days, I honestly wasn't sure if he would want me involved in what was about to happen.

He turned to look at me, his jaw set grimly and I could tell that he was battling with himself internally. "No. Stay where you are."

"Ok..." I hoisted Kate further up into my arms as Pamela's door opened again and she and Andrew slunk out, both now fully dressed. He looked understandably sheepish and though Pamela also looked worried, there was a certain defiance in her eyes that I knew Ben wouldn't miss and which would probably only succeed in angering him further.

"You...get out," he said motioning to the door.

"Why should he?" Pamela said, reaching for Andrew's arm. "If you want to say something to me you can say it in front of him."

Ben ignored her. "Leave. Now."

Andrew said nothing, merely turning to Pamela and kissing her quickly on the cheek before heading for the door at a pace somewhere between jogging and sprinting. I could tell from her expression that she was hurt by the sudden desertion, but by the time she looked at us again, the emotion had clearly passed.

I held my breath and waited.

Ben's voice shook slightly when he spoke and I knew he was trying desperately to control himself. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the police."

Pamela gaped at him. "The police? You caught me in bed with my boyfriend and your first thought is to threaten me with the _police_?"

"Not you, him. Andrew. I take it that's who he is."

"Of course that's who he is! What do you think I am, some sort of slut?" Her eyes flickered to me momentarily. At least, I thought they did, but in the heightened tension of the moment I knew that I could have been mistaken.

"Pamela...you are a minor..."

"I'm sixteen!"

"And the age of consent in this state is seventeen! Your boyfriend broke the law the moment he..." he waved his hand at her, clearly unable to formulate the words.

"The moment he what? Stuck his dick in me?"

"Pamela!" I gasped before I could stop myself. She swivelled her gaze to meet mine and I found myself wondering, not for the first time, what had happened to the loving young girl who used to hold my hand when we went out walking together, or who cuddled into her father in front of the television at night. She had seemingly been replaced by some sort of angry, dysfunctional alien, a transformation that we had clearly been blind to.

"What?" she demanded petulantly. "How old were _you_ when _you_ lost your virginity?"

"A good bit older than you," I replied.

"How many times has this happened here?" Ben asked, causing her to look at him again. "How many times have you lied to us...?"

"Once or twice," she shrugged casually. "It's no big deal."

"On the contrary, it is a _very_ big deal! I have trusted you..."

"You treat me like a kid!"

"You _are_ a kid! An irresponsible, immature kid!"

"Please tell us that you've at least been practicing safe sex," I said, Ben visibly shuddering at my words.

"Why?"

"_Why?_" I shook my head, baffled by her apparent naivety. It was the last thing I would have ever thought of her. "Because it's important! Because if you don't use protection you're potentially looking at teenage pregnancy or some sort of sexually transmitted disease! Is that what you want?"

She folded her arms and held my gaze. "Of course we use protection. I'm not like you."

I stared at her, feeling as though I had been suddenly slapped in the face. Perhaps it was my own self doubt, not to mention shame, that made me feel as though she was personally attacking me for things long passed, but she wasn't stupid and something in the way she was looking at me made me feel as though we were thinking along the same lines. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know where babies come from and I know all about HIV!"

"Oh well, you're a fully fledged adult then!" Ben snapped. Pamela rolled her eyes and he let out a long sigh. "I don't understand what's been going on with you lately. I don't understand why you've been lying to us like this. Is it Peter being away at college? Is that what's making you...?"

It was clearly the wrong thing to say. An expression of outrage slid across her face and she uncrossed her arms and balled her fists at her sides. "Jesus, this is not about _Peter_," she spat contemptuously. "Not everything is about fucking _Peter_! I _knew_ you'd somehow manage to bring him into this! I'm surprised you even remember that I'm here! If it's not Peter, Peter, Peter then it's Kate, Kate, Kate!"

As I subconsciously clutched my daughter tighter, I thought back to Elizabeth's comments over brunch and realised that she had most likely been dead on the money in her suggestion as to what was behind this. Pamela was in the middle of the sandwich, bookended by a seemingly successful older brother and a doted upon younger sister. Having never been in that situation myself, it was impossible to know how she would be feeling, but I could at least try to empathise. "Pam, if you've been made to feel that way by either of us, then we're sorry."

"No you're not," she snapped. "Neither of you give a damn about me! You can't wait until I get out of here so that the three of you can just be alone together. Your little second family! I hate you! I hate both of you!" Without waiting for any further discussion on the matter, she turned and raced back into her room, slamming the door behind her and causing Kate to start wailing again.

After settling Kate to sleep in her crib, I found Ben in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, a pained expression on his face. "Is she right?" he asked as I moved over to stand beside him. "Do we focus all our energies on Peter and Kate and neglect her?"

"No, I don't think so," I replied. "They're just all at different stages right now. Kate obviously needs a lot of input and it's only natural that we think about and worry about Peter because he's not here..."

"She's always been so good, so level-headed...I just don't know where all this has come from. The dressing in black, the attitude, the sex..." he shook his head. "I still see her as my baby."

"She still is."

"I should call the police."

"I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"She's only sixteen! He's nineteen and there are no Romeo and Juliet exemptions in this state!"

"I'm aware of that but..." I sighed. "Don't you think that by doing that you'll just end up pushing her further away? We don't want her suddenly deciding that life here is too tough and she's going to go and live with him, do we?"

"No, of course not. Maybe you're right...but she's grounded from now until the end of the month."

"Well, that's up to you."

"Thanks for the support."

"Hold on..." I turned to him again, suddenly angered by his convenient forgetfulness. "A few days ago you were telling me that _you_ had to be the one to set the rules and the boundaries, not me. Now I'll obviously back whatever punishment you want to give her but don't accuse me of not supporting you."

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping forward and sliding his arms around his waist. "You're right. This whole thing...I don't know...it's just knocked me for six a bit. She's a child and she's having sex...I didn't think I'd have to deal with this for a few years yet."

"And would you have reacted any differently if it had been Peter instead of Pamela?"

He pulled back and looked at me. "You know...I don't know."

"Well, maybe you need to think about why that is," I said, turning to the coffee machine and switching it on. I paused for a moment, the question on the tip of my tongue. It may well have just been my imagination, but I really couldn't help but feel as though Pamela had been projecting her thoughts onto me more than I had thought she reasonably should. "How does she know?" I asked finally.

"How does she know what?"

"About London."

He turned to look at me, "She doesn't know about London."

"Then why did she direct her comments about safe sex towards me?"

"I'm assuming because Kate was a surprise and she's too immature to realise that pregnancy can sometimes happen even if you _are_ using birth control." He stared at me. "Why, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything."

"I haven't said anything to her about London."

"I know."

"It's hardly something that I would bring up in conversation with my teenage daughter, is it?"

I knew it my heart he didn't mean it the way that I had taken it, but I almost couldn't resist the sarcasm of my response. "No, of course not. It would be too shameful."

"That's not what I meant and you know it! I've never held anything about London against you at any time! I've never brought it up in conversation, I've never used it to hurt you in an argument and I sure as hell haven't discussed your personal business with Pamela! If you really think that I have then there's something far wrong between us!"

I instantly felt bad, knowing that this was a part of myself that I didn't like and that I had hoped I could learn to control. It was all so easy, faced with a situation like this one, to bring it back to my own actions and to flagellate myself for things done in the dim and distant past. When I had been in regular therapy, there had been a buffer there, someone to talk things out and reason with. Rightly or wrongly, I didn't want to do that with Ben. He was my husband after all, not my therapist and though I had made so much personal progress over the years, it sometimes felt as though the overall battle would never be won.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you wouldn't have said anything to her. It's just...the way that she looked at me...it made me feel as though she knew something about me that I'd rather she didn't. I can live with the kids knowing that I was unwell and drinking but..."

"I understand that," Ben said. "But I've never said anything to her or Peter about it and unless she's been having secret phone calls with Sarah, I have no idea how she would even know."

"You're right," I shook my head as if to clear it and then poured myself some coffee. "Maybe I just imagined it."

We drank our coffee in silence and then Ben ventured to Pamela's room to advise her of her punishment. I listened to the muffled sounds of them arguing for a while before the door flew open and Pamela came rushing out only to throw herself down onto the couch next to where I was sitting. "Evelyn, please!"

"Please what?" I asked, playing dumb.

"He can't ground me, he _can't!_" she exclaimed. "If I'm grounded then I can't go to my art class and I can't see Andrew!"

"That's the whole point," Ben replied sharply as the phone rang and he moved to answer it.

"You lied to us Pam," I said calmly, "and your father is entitled to punish you how he sees fit."

"It's not fair! So we've slept together a few times. What's the big deal?!"

"The big deal is that you're underage and very young to be dealing with the emotions that having an adult sexual relationship bring. Plus, what your father said was right, Andrew technically broke the law."

"He didn't rape me!" she exclaimed before looking at me hurriedly and this time, I knew it wasn't my imagination. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's fine," I said. "I know that. Maybe if you had let us meet Andrew first and talked about how you wanted to take the relationship forwards then we might have been able to help you make a proper decision about whether or not to sleep with him."

"He's a nice guy!" she protested earnestly. "Really he is. He said we should use a condom...he's not horrible and he didn't force me...he's nice!"

"You met him at the art group at the museum?" She nodded. "Did he just come over and start talking to you or...?"

"No, the first day they put us alphabetically in pairs so that we could get to know different people and his name was the closest to mine so we ended up together."

"I guess that's a good idea when nobody knows anybody," I nodded. "What _is_ his name anyway?"

"Swann," she replied. "Andrew Swann."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all the reviews!**

**This may be the last chapter for a while due to me starting a new full time job tomorrow but I will try and update as soon as I can!**

**Four days later**

"You're dreaming if you think I'm going to plead this out at murder two, Stone. You get your feet back in the door and you want to jump up and down and stamp your authority by bringing me _this_? That's not a plea offer, it's an insult."

I couldn't help but smile thinking how little had really changed in the two and a half years I had been away from the DA's office. Certainly not the defence attorneys and, in particular, not Shambala Green. I had groaned inwardly when Vanessa had returned from the arraignment and advised me as to who Francesca Minetti had retained as her counsel. Although I had a lot of respect for the other woman and for the fact that she was one of Evelyn's friends, dealing with her professionally always gave me a headache. Not to mention this was the first time we had come up against each other since the farcical trial of Isaac Roberts, something that still rankled when I allowed myself to think about it.

Francesca Minetti was a twenty-one year old college student who had, allegedly, innocently returned home one afternoon to find her parents shot dead and wrapped in garbage bags with their hands and feet removed. Through the course of the police investigation, it had become clear that she wasn't as distraught at this discovery as she would have had everyone believe and the evidence, circumstantial as it appeared to be, pointed towards a carefully planned and executed double murder committed by Ms Minetti and her boyfriend, wealthy airline heir Mason Holbrook.

"She planned the murder. She bought the tools required to mutilate the bodies..."

"Come on counsellor, she was coerced by Mr Holbrook into making those purchases and you know it."

"Was she also coerced into shooting her parents six times?" I looked at her. "Her prints were on the gun."

"Circumstantial," Shambala replied. "The gun belonged to her father and she could have had ample other opportunities to handle it. Face it, you're twisting in the wind with this one."

"No, actually, I think we're swinging head on," Vanessa interjected with a pleasant smile that I had come to recognise over the last few weeks was the one she plastered on her face when she really wanted to scream with frustration. "And I don't think for one minute that Mr Holbrook is going to take the fall for this all by himself. His attorney has already called requesting a sit down."

Shambala's gaze flitted between us both and I could see the cogs grinding inside her head. Whatever I thought about her, she wasn't a fool. "Manslaughter two."

"Murder two," I repeated.

"This is ridiculous," she folded her arms across her chest. "Mr Holbrook comes from a privileged background which, I might add, allowed him to make bail and you want to pin this entire case on _my_ client?"

"If she gives us Mr Holbrook then we might consider manslaughter one," Vanessa said before I could reply.

"Consider it all you want, you're not getting it." Shambala lifted her coat from the table. "Thanks for the chat. There's ten minutes of my life I'll never get back." Without so much as a backward glance, she swept out of my office, letting the door slam shut behind her.

"She's nothing if not dramatic," Vanessa commented, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "Not to mention deluded."

"She certainly comes out to bat for her clients," I replied, looking again at the papers in front of me. "I suppose we can't blame her for that."

"Oh please!"

"What?"

"Come on Ben, you can be honest with me. You've crossed swords with her on more than one occasion, not to mention she ran that ridiculous defence in the Roberts case. She's more interested in creating headlines than the right and wrongs of the criminal justice system. I'm not convinced that she should be lauded as the angel she purports to be."

I looked at her over my glasses, somewhat surprised by the sharpness of her attack. Vanessa Hart was a woman that I truly didn't believe I had the full measure of. When I had interviewed her almost three years earlier I had been harsh with her, still bruised at the time by Evelyn's decision to leave me, but had had to admit that she was the best candidate for the assistant's job. Events, of course, had then taken a different turn, but through my occasional conversations with Adam, I had learned that she had been assigned to Frank Lake and was considered a good, solid worker and a fine attorney. Now that Frank had moved to the US Attorneys' office, it had seemed natural for her to become my assistant, but I couldn't help but find her hard to read.

Of my recent assistants, Paul had been the most straightforward to work with. His views had, more or less, aligned with my own and on the few occasions when we had disagreed, each of us had been able to see the other's point of view. Claire had been inexperienced enough to essentially follow where I led her and Evelyn, of course, had been in a category all of her own. As for Vanessa, I couldn't help but feel as though she had her own agenda and I wasn't convinced it included remaining my assistant for very long.

"I'm not sure that's entirely fair," I said, after a moment's consideration.

"Ok," she held up her hands. "I suppose you know her better than I do. Frank only had to deal with her a couple of times when I worked with him. I'll give her benefit of the doubt if you insist."

"She has a point about the prints," I remarked, keen to bring the conversation back around to the case before us rather than any personal feelings I might have about Shambala. "She could have handled the gun at any point, not just the night of the shooting."

"Well, we're still waiting on her bank records so maybe they'll throw something up." Vanessa got to her feet and stretched slightly. "You know, my shoulder is still killing me. I swear to God those painkillers the doctor prescribed me are doing absolutely jack shit. My kids are going to be the death of me. Speaking of which...how is Pamela's enforced house arrest going?"

I sighed and shook my head, "Well she's purposefully not talking to me but at least she's coming straight home after school, or so my neighbour tells me. Though I suppose she _could_ be bribing her." It seemed ridiculous, but the only apparent way of ensuring that Pamela stuck to the punishment she had been given had been to involve Mrs Watson at number 12. Every afternoon at four-thirty if we weren't home she would knock on our door and Pamela had to answer.

_"That is so humiliating!"_ she had wailed when I had revealed the plan to her. _"I'm sixteen not six!" _

"_I wish to God you _were _six,"_ I had replied. _"Then this would never have happened!"_ Stony silence had then ensued and persisted to the present day.

"Well I guess there's only so much that you can do," Vanessa nodded. "Although..."

"Although what?"

"Well, if she's determined to sleep with him then there's other places they could do it."

I shuddered slightly at her words, knowing that what she was suggesting was correct, but preferring not to think about it. I had made a point of calling the school every day this week to ensure that Pamela had been there for all of her classes, but I wasn't naive enough to think that I could enforce a blanket ban on her behaviour. "I know," I nodded. "But at least it's not happening under my roof."

"Yeah..." Vanessa turned for the door and then paused. "But at least if it _was_ happening under your roof then you wouldn't need to worry about it happening anywhere else."

"I don't want it happening at all!"

"I get that Ben, but she _is _sixteen and..."

"Vanessa..." I held up my hand. "I have a wife at home to debate this with so I really don't need you weighing in on it too."

"Sorry," she smiled ruefully. "Just nosey by nature I guess. I'll go and call Trevor Langan see if he's serious about a sit down with Holbrook."

When the door closed behind her, I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion that a night of broken sleep had led to starting to creep up on me. Kate was teething and she had woken multiple times during the night, her cheeks red, her little hands stuffed into her mouth in a seemingly desperate attempt to discover what was making her feel the way she was feeling. Evelyn had sat up with her most of the time but given that we both worked, I felt as though I couldn't take the moral high ground of needing the most sleep and had willingly taken my turn. But I had to admit that dealing with a baby through the night took a far greater toll now than it had done nearly twenty years ago. Plus, the situation with Pamela was affecting me more than I cared to admit. I could deal with her not talking to me, it was more the fact that my innocent little girl now seemed lost forever, no matter how ridiculous a thought it seemed. Evelyn shared Vanessa's viewpoint that at least if things happened under our roof then they hopefully wouldn't happen elsewhere and she had suggested that we invite Andrew over for dinner one night. But the father, not to mention the prosecutor, in me couldn't see past the legal rights and wrongs and the discussion had simply descended into an argument.

The phone on my desk rang suddenly, jolting me back into the present moment, and I lifted it to hear the pleasant tones of Adam's secretary asking if I could go to his office. He had been on vacation and so, this was the first chance we had had to catch up since the holidays. When he asked me how the family were, I found myself telling him about Pamela and, to my surprise, he laughed.

"I can imagine the look on your face," he shook his head. "Can't deny that she's an adult now."

"Yes I can," I insisted. "She's sixteen, Adam and the boyfriend's nineteen. I should have called the local precinct and had him charged."

"To what end? You'd ruin your relationship with Pamela, perhaps forever. Not to mention the fact that I doubt anyone in this office, besides you, would have been interested in prosecuting."

"So I should just let him get away with it?" I replied, feeling irritated that I appeared to be on my own with my views here _and _at home.

"He's nineteen, not twenty nine. _Then_ you might have had a point. But this...?" he waved his hand. "Let it go. It'll not be the last battle you have to fight with her."

"Thanks for your support. It's a good thing you have a son and no daughters."

"Well ask yourself this...if it was Peter that had been caught in bed with a sixteen year old girl would you have been so quick to get the police involved?" I looked away, not wanting to answer. "Exactly. This is the nineteen nineties. The demand for sexual equality is on the rise."

"Alright fine," I replied churlishly. "I'll just let it go, invite the boy over, supply the condoms, leave them to get on with it and then pick up the pieces afterwards, would that make you happy?"

"It's not about making _me_ happy. It's about trying to ensure that _you_ don't end up living in a warzone for the next few years until she decides to leave home." He paused. "What did her mother say?"

"I haven't told her."

"Why not?"

I shook my head, "Because I can just imagine how the conversation would go. Somehow it would all end up being my fault."

"I thought you were on good terms?"

"For the most part we are and, quite frankly, I don't really want to rock the boat."

"I'm sure Pamela's relieved."

"Oh I don't know...I wouldn't put it past Laura to give her a pat on the back and welcome her to womanhood. Anyway...I'm guessing you didn't want to see me to talk about my wayward teenager."

"No I didn't." He got to his feet and wandered over to his desk. "What's happening with the Minetti case?"

"Oh, Shambala Green's doing her usual song and dance routine about the girl being coerced by the boyfriend. She wants manslaughter two and I want murder two," I shrugged. "It's the classic stalemate at the moment."

"I've had three messages this morning already from Carter Holbrook."

"The boy's father?"

Adam nodded. "He wants to know where you're intending to take the case."

"I'm intending on taking it to trial unless his son wants to agree a plea."

"That's what I told him. Needless to say, he didn't take the news well."

"What does he expect? There was enough evidence for an indictment and, once we finish all avenues of investigation, I'm pretty confident we'll have enough to convince a jury to send his son away for a long time."

"His wife, Meredith."

"What about her?"

"You know that she's very active in the community. She sits on the board of at least four major charities..."

"So?"

"So...one of them happens to be Women In Need."

I paused, "I see."

"A mother, worried about her son's future and who feels she has some influence over the prosecutor's wife..."

"What are you suggesting? That she's going to lobby Evelyn to try to talk me into dropping the charges? It's not going to happen, Adam. Two people are dead! I don't care who the Holbrooks think they are."

"I'm not suggesting that she's going to _lobby_ her, I'm suggesting that she might try to make things _difficult_ for her, professionally speaking."

"Evelyn knows the score," I replied hurriedly. "She's not stupid and she's certainly not a pushover. There's no _way_ that she would allow anyone, let alone Meredith Holbrook, abuse her position like that, mother or no mother. She's as appalled by this case as I am."

"Alright, fine," Adam said. "Don't shoot the messenger. It might be prudent of you to warn Evelyn in advance though before Mrs Holbrook tries anything. She's doing a good job at that charity from what I've read and I'd hate to see her work, not to mention her reputation, affected by this case."

"I will. Thank you for the heads up."

As I made my way back along the corridor towards my office, I thought about what Adam had said. The Holbrooks were well known in the city, both for their wealth and their philanthropic work, and though their reputation was good, I had to agree with Adam's sentiment that faced with their son going to prison either, or both, could attempt to pressurise the office. I was determined that that wasn't going to happen. This was the first case I was scheduled to try since the death of Ann Madsen and I knew that there were many people keenly interested in how it was going to play out.

I would need to talk to Evelyn and make sure we were on the same page, not that I doubted for a minute that she wouldn't agree with me.

"Mr Stone!"

I groaned inwardly as Celia came hurrying down the corridor towards me. When I had returned to the office, she had gleefully approached me and declared that she had been reassigned to me. Whilst I had to accept that having someone who knew how I worked was an advantage, there was a small part of me that wasn't convinced she hadn't deliberately slipped the letter from the British Embassy regarding Evelyn's visa application into my mail. Although I had never confronted her about it, I wasn't sure whether I should thank her or despise her.

"Yes?"

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, her expression slightly panicked. "Your wife just called. She asked if you could meet her down at St Matthews. Your daughter's been taken ill."


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy Sunday :)**

"Noooooo...you're kidding?"

"I'm not kidding."

"Wow...what did Ben say?"

I smiled, imagining the current look on Shambala's face as I regaled her with the tale of what had happened with Pamela the previous weekend. I hadn't had the chance to speak to her or Elizabeth since and even though I knew I shouldn't gossip about my stepdaughter, part of me had been desperate to discuss it with someone other than Ben. "What do you think he said? He was furious, told the boy to get out and grounded Pam until the end of the month."

"Well, it could have been worse. At least he didn't hit him."

"You know as well as I do that that isn't Ben's style." I looked at the pile of letters sitting on my desk and, crooking the phone between my ear and shoulder, started to sign them. They were all addressed to suppliers regarding our upcoming gala ball, an event that I had been given pretty much free rein in organising and I was desperate for it to be a success. "Of course now Pam isn't talking to him and you could cut the atmosphere at home with a knife. Ben's asked our next door neighbour to knock on the door every afternoon to make sure she's come home from school and that she's alone."

"Wow."

"I know." I cringed slightly at the memory of the conversation that I had witnessed between Ben and Mrs Watson when the older lady had agreed, somewhat bemusedly, to his request. "I think it only served to fuel the fire of the angst between them."

"Have you even met this boy?" Shambala asked. "Other than when he was fleeing without his pants on?"

"No, and I only know what Pam's told me about him. They met at her art class at the museum a few months ago."

"So they have that in common at least."

"So it would appear."

"And that's all you know about him?"

"Other than his name, Andrew Swan, then yes that's all. I suggested to Ben that we invite him over for dinner one night but he didn't seem too taken with the idea. I think he's still in shock that his little girl is...well...no longer his little girl." It was an understatement. Although he hadn't said much in the few days since the incident, I knew that Ben was grappling with the sudden change in his relationship with his daughter, beyond that of her refusing to speak to him. "I had to talk him out of calling the cops."

"Doesn't he realise that that kind of reaction could simply push her in the opposite direction?"

"Deep down, yes, I think he knows that and I've tried to tell him that if they're going to sleep together then surely it's better that it happens under our roof rather than somewhere else, but it didn't make any difference."

"Yup, that's our Ben Stone all right...ever the prosecutor. You know, I'm heading in there later on to meet with him about the Minetti case. Want me to offer him some words of wisdom about dealing with sexually active teenage girls?"

"God, no! He'd probably kill me for even telling you about it," I replied quickly. "He hasn't told her mother yet."

"Why not? Surely she should know."

"Of course she should know but I think he's hoping that Pam will tell Laura herself so that he doesn't have to. He thinks that Laura will blame him for letting it happen and open a whole can of worms about parenting and custody and so on."

"But Peter's at college and Pam's sixteen now," Shambala said. "It's not as if she could get the custody case reopened. Pam's old enough to decide where she wants to live and if she's infatuated with this boy then she's not going to want to move back to Hartford, is she?"

"Shambala...you're preaching to the choir, seriously. In my opinion, he and Laura should talk about it and agree on how to approach it together. But he's already made it clear to me that she's his daughter and I have to let him deal with the matter as he sees fit."

"I guess so...ok I promise I won't say anything. Of course, I might not get a word in edgeways anyway, what with that new assistant of his."

"Vanessa?" I paused, thinking about the woman I had met briefly on one occasion when I had gone to the office to meet Ben after work. "What about her?"

"She thinks that she's God's gift to the DA's office. I dealt with her a few times when she was working with Frank Lake and it was a few times too many. I think she sees working with Ben as being a step up to the next level."

"So, she's ambitious. Surely there's nothing wrong with that," I said, bunching the letters together and moving them to the side of my desk to pass to Amy, my secretary, to send out in the mail.

"She's ruthless. I wouldn't put it past her to screw over anyone that so happens to be in her way. I think she's got Adam Schiff's seat in mind for herself."

"Well she's not going to be able to screw _Ben_ over, you know that." There was a noticeable pause that caught my attention. "You _know_ that, right?"

"How is he finding it?" Shambala asked. "Being back at the DA's office I mean?"

"He said it was like coming home. That it felt as though he had never been away. Why?"

"I don't know...I don't want to speak out of turn..."

"About what?" I demanded, all focus on everything else gone. "Has someone said something?"

"It's just...you know court street, it's full of rumour and innuendo and cheap talk. I've just heard a few whispers that...well, that maybe he's not, you know, up to it after what happened with Ann Madsen."

I didn't say anything, knowing that Ann Madsen's death had been one of the major stumbling blocks to Ben being able to make the decision to return to the job he had always loved. He still felt enormous guilt over the incident, even though we had visited her grave and he had apologised to her. Deep down, perhaps as a result of how effective I had found therapy for myself, I still held the belief that some form of counselling might be good for him, if not for that then for all the other things we had been through, but he continued to resist.

"He's a damn good attorney, Shambala, you know that."

"I know..."

"And he's fair and just and he does the right thing as much as he possibly can..." I broke off, feeling tears spring into my eyes at the thought of anyone down-crying or smearing my husband. "He's the best ADA the office has."

"You don't have to convince me, Evelyn, I promise you that. I've always liked and respected Ben. I would just hate to see an opportunist take advantage of what he's gone through in the past."

Though I had no real reason to, I suddenly found myself irrationally hating Vanessa Hart. Shambala hadn't said that the unkind chatter was coming from her, but I felt a sudden primal protective instinct come over me and couldn't help but think that perhaps I should pay more frequent visits to his office and let her know, subtly, exactly who was in charge.

"Look, I should go," Shambala said."I'm sorry if I've said something to upset you..."

"No," I said hurriedly, "No, I'm glad you told me."

"I know full well he's going to give me a rough ride over this Minetti case," she added. "I'm under no illusions about that."

"Good luck," I said, before bringing the conversation to a close and hanging up the phone. For a while I stood staring at the receiver, thinking about calling Ben myself and yet knowing that there would be little chance of me being able to keep the contents of the recent conversation to myself. Bringing up Ann Madsen, or his ability to do his job, was not what he needed so early into his return.

Instead, I busied myself with my own tasks, working my way through my to-do list and straight through lunch before I had even noticed. It was funny how something could just draw you in and occupy your mind for so long that time was allowed to fly past unchallenged. By the time I lifted my head and glanced at my watch, it was almost two-thirty. Marion and I were due to have a meeting about the gala at three o'clock so, taking advantage of the short time I had left, I hurried out to buy a bagel from the deli across the street and was walking back towards my office door when Amy held up one finger to stop me.

"Yes, she's right here. Hold on please." She cupped the mouthpiece with her hand. "That's Merry Hill on the line for you."

I groaned inwardly, hoping that they were only calling to give me an update on how much Kate's teething was affecting her and not to ask me to collect her early. I felt exhausted from the lack of sleep I'd had over the last few days and whilst I obviously loved my daughter fiercely, motherhood was certainly taking its toll of late. The initial guilt I had felt about putting her into daycare to allow me to work had quickly dissipated once I had had the chance to experience life as myself again, but working and caring for a young child was no easy feat, even with a loving and supportive husband. I moved around to the other side of my desk and lifted the receiver. "Evelyn Stone?"

"Mrs Stone, it's Merry Hill here. I'm sorry to tell you that Kate's been taken ill."

I felt my heart slow in my chest and everything around me seemed to suddenly stand still. "What? What's wrong with her?"

"We're not sure. We called an ambulance and the EMTs are here. They want to take her to St Matthews. Can you meet them there?"

"Yes of course I...oh my God..." Without further conversation, I threw the receiver down somewhere in the region of its cradle and rushed back out into the hallway, startling Amy as I flew past her towards the elevator. "Call my husband!" I shouted back, punching the button. "Tell him that Kate's sick and to meet us at St Matthews!" She said something in response but I didn't hear her, choosing to forego the agonising wait for the elevator and thundering down the fire escape instead. My heart raced as I ran across the lobby and through the doors onto the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face as I searched wildly for a cab.

The street was crowded and I could feel people looking at me as I ran full pelt into the street, screaming for a cab to stop and waving my arms furiously. Horns honked and cars swerved around me but finally a cab pulled in beside me and I yanked open the door and threw myself inside, shouting for the driver to get to St Matthews as quickly as he could. If he thought I was insane, he didn't say anything and, whilst later, I would admire the skill with which he drove through the traffic to get me to the hospital, at that moment all I could think about was my little girl and about how I should have taken Ben up on his offer to buy me a cell phone.

The drive seemed to take forever but, finally, we were at the hospital and after throwing more notes at the driver than was probably necessary, I sprinted into the ER, past a crowd of people waiting to be triaged, and up to the main desk.

"Kate Stone...my daughter..." I gasped to the nurse. "I got a call about my daughter."

"What's her name?"

"Kate Stone," I repeated. "She was being brought in by EMT's from Merry Hill daycare. I got a call..."

"Her date of birth?"

I couldn't understand how she could be so calm. "April 23rd 1996."

She flicked though a pile of papers in front of her and shook her head. "I'm sorry, there's no Kate Stone here."

"What are you talking about?!" I demanded angrily. "I got a call from her daycare! They said that she was sick and that the ambulance was bringing her here!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Maybe they haven't arrived yet...maybe they're still on their way in..."

"Ma'am, I can assure you there's been no Kate Stone admitted today and we're not awaiting any other ambulances at the moment."

"But I...no...no I got a call! They called me...maybe...maybe I got the wrong hospital..." I dived into my purse and started scrabbling for the change that I always kept in a clear bag in the inside pocket, one of the few positive things I had brought back from my time in London. "They called me..." Leaving my purse on the counter I hurried over to the bank of payphones a few feet away, pushed in the money and frantically dialled the number that I knew by heart. It rang three times before someone answered.

"Merry Hill daycare, Vivien speaking, how may I help you?"

"This is Evelyn Stone..." I panted. "I got a call about my daughter..."

"Ah yes, Kate?"

"Yes! Yes, Kate! I got a call..."

"Nice to hear from you Mrs Stone. I'm sorry I haven't seen you at drop off recently."

Her lack of concern threw me slightly. "I got a call..."

"Did you? Well she _has _been a little bit grumpy today what with her teeth coming through but apart from that..."

"Wait...what?"

"Apart from that she's been fine. I put my head into the room about a half hour ago and she was happily playing in the baby gym."

"Wait a minute..." my head starting spinning. "You mean...you mean that she's there?"

"Of course she's here." There was a slight pause. "Was there some reason that you thought that she wasn't?"

"I don't...I got a call..."

The world started to close in on me. I could hear Vivien talking, but her voice began to grow fainter as the edges of my vision darkened and I reached out to steady myself against the wall. The receiver slipped from my hand and I felt myself slump down towards the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the long delay! Enjoy! :)**

I felt as though my head was spinning.

The entire ride to the hospital I had been imagining being given the worst news and when, upon arriving, I found Evelyn being treated by a nurse in the waiting area, I thought my worst fears had been realised. For a moment, no-one was able to give me an accurate description as to what had happened but, suffice to say, my heart rate had slowed slightly when a kind-faced nurse had reassured me that Kate had not been admitted and that Evelyn had fainted after making a phone call. Now, sat with her pressed against me, her face deathly pale and her hands shaking whilst holding a hot cup of coffee, my fear had turned to anger and the bored looking detective, ostensibly taking notes in front of us, was doing little to curb my feelings.

"So, you have no idea who would do this?" he asked, cracking his chewing gum and flipping through his notepad. "No idea who would make up a story like this?"

"No," I replied tightly.

"You're an ADA, right?" he looked at me and I fought down the urge to correct him. "You must have pissed a few people off in your time."

"Probably, but..."

"I mean, it can't be too hard to figure out you have a kid and where she goes to daycare. Maybe you pissed someone off in a plea bargain, or maybe somebody in prison is calling in a favour?"

"Nobody that I can think of right now," I replied, though I had to admit that my mind was working overtime like a Rolodex.

He cracked his gum again and looked at Evelyn. "What about you?"

"No," she replied quietly. "I can't think of anybody."

The detective sighed. "You're sure you heard right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Could you have been mistaken in what the caller said over the phone," he explained in a tone that suggested he was frustrated with the entire conversation. "Maybe you heard her wrong."

"I didn't hear her wrong," Evelyn replied. "She told me that Kate was sick, that they had called an ambulance and that they were on their way here. How do you think I could have got that wrong?!"

He shrugged, "You're a mother...you misinterpret what the caller said...?"

She leapt to her feet before I could stop her, coffee sloshing out onto the floor. "I did _not_ misinterpret anything!" she exclaimed. "I know what they said!"

"Ok..." I got to my feet and stepped slightly between them, concerned that Evelyn might say or do something that she later regretted. "Detective...?"

"Bannerman."

"Detective Bannerman...perhaps we could have a word in private?"

He sighed heavily and inclined his head before moving away from the row of chairs towards the coffee machine. I waited until Evelyn sat back down again before following him out of her earshot, reminding myself that we needed help, not for either of us to be carted away in handcuffs. "I appreciate, Detective, that this is perhaps not much of a case as far as you are concerned..." he raised one shoulder half-heartedly. "...but someone saw fit to call my wife and tell her that our child was seriously ill and on her way to hospital. Now, I don't know about you, but I think that's something worth investigating."

"So where do you suggest we start?" he asked.

I shook my head wishing, not for the first time, that I had been able to call Lennie or even Mike, as far out of his jurisdiction as it would have been, rather than have to work with someone from the nearest precinct who clearly couldn't give a damn. "I would suggest that you check the local usage details from my wife's office and trace the call. It had to originate from somewhere. Then, maybe, you could interview the staff at the daycare. Maybe one of them saw or heard something suspicious."

Bannerman's eyes flickered across my shoulder to where Evelyn was sitting and then back again. "I read the papers, you know."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning I know who you are...I know who your wife is." He shuffled his feet. "Word on the street for a time was that you got a witness killed by forcing her to testify in a mob trial."

A shiver ran through me at the memory of Ann Madsen. I thought about her often, too often to need reminding of her by others. "Are you suggesting this could be some sort of revenge for that?"

"Maybe..." he shrugged again. "On the other hand, your wife is a pretty public figure and, by all accounts, she hasn't had the best mental health over the years..."

Indignation flared through me. "There is nothing wrong with my wife's mental health!"

"Ok," Bannerman said, his gaze on mine. "If you say so."

"I do say so."

"She was the only one who heard what the caller said."

"Yes she was," I said, knowing that I had to bring the conversation to a close before I said or did something that I was going to regret. "And she's a credible witness, so why don't you do your job and find out who was behind this." I pulled a card out of my pocket. "You can reach me on these numbers. Now, if you're finished, I want to take my wife to get my daughter."

"Sure," Bannerman said, glancing at the card before slipping it into his pocket. "I'll call you."

"Can we go and get Kate now?" Evelyn asked, standing up as I made my way back over to her. "I want to see her. I need to know that she's alright."

"Yes, we can go now," I replied, thanking the nurse who was hovering nearby before sliding my arm around her waist and propelling her towards the main entrance. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied firmly, though her voice still sounded shaky. "I'll be a lot better when I see her though." I managed to get a cab easily and as we made our way to Merry Hill, she turned to look at me, her eyes hollow in her face. "Who would do this?"

"I don't know," I shook my head. "But the police are going to find out."

"Are you sure? That detective didn't seem as though he gave a damn."

"Maybe not," I agreed. "But I'm an EADA. That has to carry some clout, right?"

She shivered slightly and pressed herself against me. "I hope so."

XXXX

"Bannerman?" Lennie pursed his lips. "How old would you say he was?"

"Late thirties...early forties."

"Can't be Jake Bannerman, he's older than me."

"Doesn't he have a son?" Lennie's partner, Rey Curtis, spoke up from where he was standing by the window. "He would be around that age."

"Carl? He's a beat cop, isn't he?"

"I'm pretty sure he made detective last year," Rey said. "And he works out of that precinct."

Lennie turned back to look at me. "What do you want us to do, Ben?"

I sighed and shook my head. Back in the warmth of our apartment, Kate sleeping in her mother's arms, I couldn't help but worry that it was all something and nothing and that I had been hasty in calling Lennie and asking him to come over. "Nothing, I guess. I know you can't interfere in another investigation, but I suppose I just wanted to run it by you and see if _you_ thought Evelyn and I were crazy for wanting this followed up."

"Of course you're not crazy," Lennie said. "I can't imagine anything worse than getting a phone-call like that and then to find out it was a hoax..." he shook his head.

"Whoever it was on the phone was very convincing," Evelyn spoke up from her position on the couch. "It's only now that I think back on it that I realise that I didn't recognise the voice. It could have been anyone."

"Well it was someone who knew Kate's name, where she goes to daycare, where you work..." Rey said. "Sounds like this person knows _you_ even if you don't know them."

"Tell you what," Lennie said, getting to his feet. "We'll have a word with Bannerman, make sure he realises that this is a top priority investigation and, if we hear anything, we'll let you know."

"I appreciate that, thank you," I said, standing and shaking both their hands before showing them out. Once they had gone, I double locked the door, even though I wasn't entirely sure why. It was highly unlikely we were going to be invaded, despite what had happened. When I turned back to Evelyn, she had put her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. "Are you ok?"

"As much as I can be after this," she replied, opening her eyes. "Why has this happened, Ben?"

"I don't know," I sat down beside her and gently stroked Kate's foot. "But I promise you that it's not going to happen again." When we had collected Kate from daycare that afternoon, I had had a lengthy conversation with the owner and we had agreed a rigorous system of checks and passwords to be used in any communication to do with Kate going forwards. To some it might have seemed like overkill, but I knew that I never wanted to experience what we had gone through that day again.

"It scares me that someone out there hates us enough to..." she broke off as tears filled her eyes and I slid my arm around her shoulders. "I thought that all of this was behind us...I thought that we didn't have to worry about this kind of thing anymore. People are in jail and..."

"Evelyn, this has got nothing to do with that," I said, knowing where her mind was going. "It has nothing to do with Edward or the Lucchese family or anyone connected to them. It's probably just someone's idea of a sick joke."

"How do you know that?" she looked at me. "You can't know that, not for sure."

"I _can_ know that and I do," I replied with slightly more confidence than I felt. "You're right, people are in jail. It's been over two years and if there was going to be any fallout from that, it would have happened long before now."

She looked back down at Kate and touched her cheek, "I wish I felt as sure about that as you do."

I opened my mouth to respond, but Pamela chose that moment to come out of her room and round the back of the couch. "Have the cops gone?"

"Yes," I replied. "You didn't have to stay in your room the whole time."

She shrugged, "I figured I should stay out of the way. I could take Kate if you want..."

"No!" Evelyn replied sharply and I felt her grip on Kate tighten. "I mean...no, that's ok Pam, thank you. I just want to sit and hold her if you don't mind."

"Sure," Pamela's face reddened slightly and she turned towards the kitchen instead.

I waited a fraction of a second before following her and found her standing staring into the fridge. "Evelyn's just a little upset right now," I said. "She had a terrible fright earlier, we both did, and she just wants to hang on to Kate."

"I get it, it's fine."

"Pam..."

"I said, it's fine." She grabbed a carton of milk and slammed the door closed before rooting in the cupboard for a glass.

I weighed up my options. Our relationship had been bad enough lately without adding fuel to the fire so, I elected to let her attitude go in light of everything that had happened. "Did you finish your homework?" I asked, in what I hoped was a pleasant tone of voice.

"Almost. I've got a test tomorrow so I need to study."

"Ok, well, I was thinking of ordering some takeout," I said, aware that neither Evelyn nor I felt much like cooking. "Any preference?"

"Pizza?" she glanced at me.

"Sure, pizza sounds good. I'll call you when we're deciding what to order ok?"

"Ok," she lifted the glass and made her way out of the kitchen and back towards her room.

"Pam voted for pizza," I said, rejoining Evelyn on the couch. "Is that ok with you?"

"Order whatever you two want. I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something."

"Fine order it and, if I'm hungry when it gets here, I will."

"Ok."

She shifted slightly under Kate's weight. "She actually spoke to you then."

"Yeah, it surprised me too," I replied, "but I think she's been pretty shaken up about what happened today too." A cold feeling started to creep up my spine and I fought down the somewhat irrational fear of something else happening. "Maybe I should keep her off school tomorrow and I should probably call Peter."

Evelyn's head flew up, "You think someone might try to target them?"

"I doubt it," I said rationally, wanting to maintain the air of calm that I knew she needed right at that moment, "but the cops might have made some progress by Monday. They might even have caught the person behind it and then we can all just go back to normality."

"Pam won't thank you for extending her house arrest."

"Maybe if I let her invite Andrew over this weekend it might sweeten the deal a little."

Evelyn frowned, "I thought you wanted to call the cops on him not welcome him into the family."

"I did...I do..." I shook my head. "I really don't know right now. Maybe you were right about things happening under our own roof being better than imagining where else they might be happening. Not..." I added firmly, "that I'm going to be allowing any sleepovers."

Evelyn looked back down at Kate, "I can't imagine letting her out of my sight right now."

"Then a day in the house with her tomorrow might do _you_ some good too and, like I said, maybe this will all have been solved by Monday."

"What about you? Are you going to stay with us?"

"No, I'm going to go in and speak to Adam tomorrow, see what strings he might be able to pull. There's got to be _some _advantage in working at the DA's office." I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Everything's going to be absolutely fine. I promise."


	9. Chapter 9

**Apologies for another long delay! Enjoy :)**

I couldn't sleep. Every time I tried all I could hear in my head was the voice on the phone. Female...calm...yet telling me that Kate was sick and on her way to hospital. All I could feel was the sense of panic that had washed over me at the thought of something happening to my baby. It was like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe and I sat up in bed, gulping for air, gaining no comfort from the darkened room. Ben slept on beside me, oblivious to my distress. I could just make out his profile in the darkness but, for once, it brought me no comfort.

I slid out of bed, pulled on my robe and checked Kate's cot before making my way out into the living room and sitting down on the couch. Lifting the remote, I switched on the television then muted it, allowing the pictures on the screen to wash over me. I felt so helpless, knowing that there was nothing I could do, nothing that Ben could do. This wasn't a situation where he could sweep in and solve everything. He was as much in the dark as I was and, for the first time in a long time, I felt alone.

I would have loved a drink. Back in those dark days of depression and self loathing, a bottle of wine had been the ultimate comfort. The feeling of the liquid sliding down my throat, the sense of my head lifting slightly away from by body, the sensation of giving myself over to something else...it was a heady brew, one that I didn't trust myself to be able to control. Since the day I had arrived at the treatment center, I hadn't touched a drop and had never really missed it, until now. I knew there was beer in the fridge. I could have one and maybe...maybe it might help...

"Don't be stupid," I whispered fiercely in the silence. "Don't be so fucking stupid."

Getting to my feet, I paced slowly up and down the room, trying to work out who could be behind this, who could hate us enough to want to scare us. I thought about clients that I had represented in the past, defendants that I knew Ben had prosecuted, people who might bear a grudge. The Lucchese family...someone connected to Ann Madsen...the spectre of Edward...I shivered, tightening my robe around my body. He was dead, long dead and yet there were times when I was convinced that he still haunted me.

Perhaps ending therapy when I did had been a mistake. I knew that Elizabeth had been wary about me giving up only six months after leaving treatment, but at the time I had felt it was the right thing to do. I believed I had talked through everything I could talk through, explained every feeling I had, mulled over every emotion...Ben and I had been heading to Italy to get married, I had been so happy...there had seemed no need to carry on. And for almost two years, I thought it had been the right decision. Marriage to Ben, giving birth to Kate, working in my new job...I hadn't needed someone to talk to. Now, however, it scared me slightly how dark my thoughts could become so quickly when faced with a problem.

"Are you ok?"

I jumped suddenly at the sound of a voice behind me and, turning, saw Pamela standing watching me. "Yes," I replied, once my heart rate had started to slow. "Yes, I'm fine."

"What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Because of what happened yesterday?"

"Yes," I replied honestly, seeing little point in trying to pretend otherwise. "I guess I'm still a little shaken. What are _you _doing up?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't sleep either. I've got this test so..."

"Are you worried about it?" I asked, almost pleased for the distraction. She shrugged again. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Did you talk Dad into letting Andrew come over this weekend?"

"No, it was his idea."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does he want him to come over?"

"He wants to meet him...properly. We both do." I had hoped that I sounded genuine but I could tell that Pamela wasn't convinced. "We want to get to know him."

"It's because of what happened, isn't it?"

I thought about keeping up the pretence and then realised that I had no strength to. "Yes, I suppose it is. He...we...would rather that we knew where you were, that's all, and seeing as you'll no doubt want to spend time with Andrew, we thought it would be better if you were both here."

"He's not going to let him stay the night though, is he?" Pamela folded her arms across her chest.

"No, probably not, unless he sleeps on the couch."

"It's not fair."

"No, I guess it's not," I replied, rubbing my eye and desperately hoping that we could avoid an argument about it. "But he's your dad and whilst you live here you have to abide by his rules."

"But..."

"Pam, I'm not going to argue with you about it!" I snapped.

"Fine!" she turned and stalked back into her room, mercifully refraining from slamming the door behind her, and I sank down onto the couch feeling tears quickly forming.

I was useless as a stepmother. I had tried so hard since leaving treatment to take things slowly with both Peter and Pamela, aware of what they had been through on so many levels. Sometimes I thought I had got it right and other times I was convinced that they both hated me. And now Kate...my own child...I couldn't even keep her safe. Never mind being a stepmother, what kind of _mother_ was I that I couldn't even protect my own child?

"Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it!" I beat my hand against my forehead, knowing that I couldn't give into this, couldn't give in to whoever it was that trying to do this. "You're stronger than this. You're fine. Kate's fine. You're fine." I shivered again and, suddenly feeling desperate for the warmth of my own bed, hurriedly made my way back into the bedroom, slipped off my robe and slid back under the covers. Ben stirred slightly as I pressed myself against him and though the heat from his body flooded through mine, I still couldn't help feeling an icy chill of uncertainty.

XXXX

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Ben asked the next morning, hovering at the door to the apartment, briefcase in hand. "I could stay home..."

"No," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "I'll be absolutely fine. Kate and I will just hang out here together and have fun until you come home. You said that you wanted to speak to Adam anyway and I think that it's a good idea. He might be able to suggest something practical that we can do other than wait for the police."

"If you're sure..."

"I _am_ sure, really I am," I smiled encouragingly at him. "I just didn't sleep too well, that's all. But I'll be able to have a nap later when Kate does."

"You should have woken me," he said, not for the first time since I had told him of my early morning wanderings.

"There would have been no point in both of us getting no sleep," I replied, also not for the first time. "Really, I'm fine."

He nodded and then turned towards Pamela's room. "Pam! Hurry up if you want dropped off! Oh, by the way..." I looked up. "Remind me to talk to you later about Meredith Holbrook."

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"It doesn't matter right now, just remind me later." He sighed. "Pam, hurry up!"

"I'm coming!" Pamela came out of her room and stormed over to the front door, barely giving me a second glance as she wrenched it open and made her way into the hall. Clearly, she was still pissed at what I had said during the night not that, in the cold light of reality, I had said anything I felt I should chastise myself over.

Ben paused again and I could see inner conflict play out on his face. "Are you sure...?"

"Ben, just go!" I sighed. "Please. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come home."

"Ok," he stepped towards me and dropped a kiss on my cheek before heading back to the door. "Call me if you need anything, ok?"

I nodded and let out a long slow breath as he walked out and closed the door behind him. On the floor in front of me, Kate was playing happily on her mat and, for a brief time, I felt relieved to have the apartment to myself. I flicked the television on again and turned it to cartoons, the noise of which caught Kate's attention, allowing me to make myself another coffee in the kitchen. By the time I had stirred in the milk, brought it back over to the couch and drank half of it, however, my relief at being alone had evaporated. I suddenly felt chilled again, despite the hot liquid, so I hurried over to the thermostat and cranked it up a few notches. The apartment slowly grew warmer and yet the iciness inside me persisted. Perhaps I had been too quick to tell Ben to leave. Perhaps I should have told him to stay with us and work from home. He could have done that. There would have been no difficulty. He wasn't in court today. Adam would have understood...

"Stop this..." I whispered to myself again. "Stop it. You're fine."

Half an hour later, the phone rang and I found myself staring at it, too afraid to pick up, terrified that I would hear her voice again, as ridiculous as that was. Kate was here with me, she was safe...but Ben wasn't and neither was Pamela...or Peter. It rang onto answer, but the caller hung up without leaving a message. I tried not to read anything into it. "Probably just a wrong number," I told Kate cheerfully before losing myself in an intense game of peekaboo, the sound of her laughter warming the chilled parts of my body.

Half an hour later, the phone rang again and, once again, no message was left. I felt myself start to shake, so I lifted the receiver and called Ben's number only to hear it ring out at the other end. Cancelling the call, I dialled Elizabeth's office number, only for her secretary to advise that she was out. I tried her home number only to get her machine. I called the public defender's office and asked to speak to Shambala, only to be told that she was in court. I called Mike's precinct on Staten Island, only to be told he wasn't at his desk. I called Peter's dorm at Michigan only to be told he was in class. I called Ben's mother, Mary, only to get her machine. I called Claire, only for her secretary to tell me she was in court.

My fingers hovered over the buttons as the dial tone buzzed in my ear. There was only one person I had left to call and yet, I wasn't sure I could bring myself to do it. I hadn't spoken to my mother in almost a year. Too many things had been said and I had long since given up on the hope of her suddenly admitting her failings and declaring that she wanted a relationship, for Kate's sake if nothing else. I had to wonder what calling her would achieve.

I replaced the receiver and turned back to where Kate was crawling over towards me. Swooping down to pick her up, I could immediately smell that she needed a diaper change and whilst that distracted me for a few minutes, once done, I knew that I needed to get out of the apartment. I dressed Kate warmly and filled her changing bag, pausing for a brief moment to consider whether I should take the thirty-eight out of the locked box on top of the wardrobe and take it with me.

Ben hated the gun. Although this one was legally purchased and I had a permit for it, he would frequently tell me that he wasn't comfortable with it being in the apartment. I often wondered what he thought might happen. Did he think that Pamela would somehow get to it in a hormonal fuelled rage and massacre us? Knowing it was there had always made me feel better and when we had fought bitterly about it, just before getting married, I had told him that I would call the whole thing off if he couldn't simply accept its presence.

In the end, I elected to leave it where it was and once I had Kate in her stroller and we were making our way down the street, I started to feel better. The sun was shining, despite the low temperature and the cold air in my lungs felt good. I pounded the sidewalk, unsure of where I was heading, but just grateful to be outside amongst other people. The motion of the stroller led to Kate nodding off and I was standing at a crossing, looking down lovingly at her sleeping face, when a hand suddenly touched my arm and I whirled around to see the face of a young woman standing behind me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said. "I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure." My mind raced, but I found I couldn't place her, and the fact that she had me at a disadvantage somehow terrified me. "Michelle," she said. "Michelle Farisi? We ran into each other last weekend at the bistro?"

"Oh...yes..." I said, recognition flooding back at the woman who had stopped me on the way back from the restroom and spoken to me about the conference I had spoken at. "Yes, I remember. I'm sorry, I was miles away."

"That's alright, I don't blame you. This little one would captivate anyone's attention," she replied, looking down into the stroller. "She is beautiful. What's her name?"

"Kate."

"Such a pretty name." She met my gaze again. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular," I replied. "Just out for a walk."

"Well, it's a beautiful day for it. I've got the day off so I was just going to head over to _Talisker_ for some brunch."

"_Talisker..._" I frowned, "but that's near the park." She looked at me. "I didn't...I mean, I didn't realise I had walked that far."

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You look really pale."

"Yes I'm...I'm fine..." I glanced around, suddenly aware of where I was and how many people were pushing by. The city was so crowded, sometimes I forgot just how much, and I couldn't believe how far away from the apartment I now was. "I should be heading back."

"Wait, why don't you join me?" Michelle asked, putting her hand on the handle of the stroller. "I'd love to talk to you some more about the conference and you look as though you could use a hot cup of coffee."

"Well..." I paused, glancing down at Kate again. If I walked back home I would be alone again and maybe the phone would ring again and it would be hours yet before Ben would be home.

"Please, I'd love your company."

I looked into Michelle's earnest face and shrugged. "Sure, why not."


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh my God…" Vanessa's eyes widened as I relayed the story of the previous day to her and Adam. "You must have been terrified, Ben, not to mention poor Evelyn. I can't even begin to imagine getting a call like that about one of my kids."

"It was pretty scary," I nodded. "But the main thing is that Kate's alright."

"And Evelyn?" Adam asked.

"She's pretty shaken up, understandably. She was worried that it might have something to do with Edward or the Lucchese family but of course I told her that was nonsense." I glanced at Adam, wondering if he would opine a different view, but he simply nodded in agreement.

"Prank call?"

I shrugged. "If it was, it was a pretty well researched prank. They knew how to contact Evelyn, they knew Kate's name and where she goes to daycare…" I trailed off. "The police don't appear to be taking it particularly seriously, not officially anyway." I relayed how I had contacted Lennie and Rey the previous evening. "It's not their case though…"

"What are you asking me?" Adam asked squarely. "You want me to talk to the police commissioner? Ask him to put some pressure on the precinct?"

"Yes and no…" I made a face. "I don't want to be seen to be abusing any power or authority I may have as an Assistant DA but…this is my family we're talking about and we've already been through enough over the years. I don't want something like this to end up setting Evelyn back in all the progress she's made."

"You think she might start drinking again?" Vanessa asked, and I found myself turning to look at her, slightly caught off guard by the easy way in which she asked her question. "I'm sorry," she said, smoothly, clearly reading my expression. "I didn't mean to get personal."

"No, that's alright. I suppose it's not a secret. I'd like to think that she could maintain her sobriety but something like this could really test her and my job is to protect her and the kids." I looked at Adam again. "Whatever you think you could do…"

"Don't you worry about it, my boy," he said reassuringly. "The commissioner owes me a favour after the Henderson trial last month."

"Right," Vanessa said, "the two cops that should have been charged."

"_Could_ have been charged," Adam corrected her. "The evidence could have gone either way, but it went in the force's favour, so I don't think it's too much to ask that they do us a favour in return. I'll give him a call this afternoon."

"Thanks Adam," I got to my feet. "I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry," Vanessa said as we made our way back around to my office. "I shouldn't have overstepped. It's none of my business what Evelyn did in the past."

"No it isn't, but it's not as though she hides it," I replied, thinking back on all the times I knew Evelyn had used her past troubles as a platform for doing good for Women In Need. "Like I said, it's always going to be a concern."

"It must be hard for you, living with the constant fear that she might relapse."

I paused as we reached my office door. I had already excused her twice and yet something about that last sentence set me slightly on edge. "It's not a fear," I said, turning to look at her. "And it's not something that I think about on a regular basis."

"I'm sorry. My big mouth is running away with me today." She backed away towards her desk. "I'll go before I say anything else."

I watched her go, irritated with both her and myself for the fact that I had let the thought of what had happened possibly pushing Evelyn towards drinking enter my head. Yes, she had had a shock, we both had, but no that didn't mean she was about to throw everything away. I knew her well enough to know that she was stronger than that. Before going into my office, I walked across to Celia's desk. "Any messages?"

"No," she replied, in a tone that indicated that if there had been she would have brought them to me, "None at all. Were you expecting someone to call?"

"No," I replied, turning away. "No-one."

XXXX

"Well how long has she been gone?"

"Dad, how the hell would I know? I've been at school all day and when I came home, there was no-one here!"

Pamela crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me as though I had suggested she had something to do with the mysterious disappearance of my wife and child. Taking a deep breath, I checked myself, reminding myself that it was, indeed, nothing to do with her. It wasn't unusual for Evelyn to leave the apartment with Kate on the days that she spent at home with her, but given all that had happened and the fact that it was almost six o'clock, I couldn't help but feel worried. The flowers I had purchased en route home lay discarded on the table as I glanced around once again for any sign of a note.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I know this isn't your fault. I'm just a bit worried, that's all."

"She probably just went out to get some milk or something."

"Yes, that's probably it," I agreed, though I wasn't convinced. Evelyn had been so freaked out by what had happened that I had half expected to have to force her to go anywhere in the near future. Not to mention the fact that I too still felt spooked. Going to work had been difficult, but I had at least had some peace of mind believing her and Kate to be safe at home.

_You're being ridiculous. _

Walking into the bedroom I changed out of my suit, cleaned up in the bathroom and then came back into the living room to find Pamela sat in front of the television with her feet on the coffee table. For a moment, I realised that I wasn't sure what to do. We hadn't discussed what we were having for dinner that evening and I had intended speaking to Pamela about allowing Andrew to come over at some point in order that we could meet him, but not knowing where Evelyn was seemed to render me incapable of forming cohesive thought. I wandered into the kitchen, lifted a beer from the fridge then thought better of it and opened a can of soda instead. I hadn't felt like this since London and yet, rationally, I knew that her being out of an afternoon was nothing in comparison to those times.

Just when I was starting to grow uncomfortably edgy and considering calling Briscoe, the door of the apartment opened and Evelyn appeared, carrying Kate in her arms, the changing bag slung over her shoulder. Her cheeks were red from the cold afternoon air and she was panting slightly with the exertion of climbing the stairs. Relief flooded through me and though I knew I should act as though nothing had concerned me, I found I couldn't help myself. "Where have you been?" I demanded as she put Kate down onto the couch and began taking off her hat and coat. "I've been worried sick!"

"I'm sorry," Evelyn replied, "I didn't mean to worry you. I took Kate out for a walk and then I met up with Michelle Farisi, remember her?"

"Who?"

"Michelle Farisi. She approached me at the bistro last weekend when were there with Mike and Liz. She had seen me speak at a conference? Anyway," she continued without waiting for an answer, "I ran into her completely by chance on the street and we went for brunch at _Talisker._"

"Brunch?" I stared at her. "It's almost six-thirty."

"I know," she lifted Kate up again and smoothed down the strands of her hair, ruffled from her hat. "But we just got talking and I fed Kate and let her sleep in the stroller…and it was nice." She looked at me. "It was nice having someone to talk to."

I felt my hackles rise slightly. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning nothing, only that I called your office this morning and I couldn't get hold of you."

"Celia never said and I specifically asked her…"

"I didn't speak to Celia."

"Why were you calling? What was wrong?" She paused. "Evelyn?"

"There were a couple of phone calls."

I felt my blood cool, "What kind of phone calls?"

"It just…the phone just rang a couple of times and nobody left a message and it just…" she shrugged. "It just freaked me out a bit, that's all. So I tried to call you but there was no reply and…and I couldn't get hold of anyone else so I decided to go out."

"Well who else did you try?"

"Shambala, Liz, Mike…" she shrugged again. "I just felt as though I needed to get out of the apartment for a while."

I sighed heavily and pulled her and Kate into my arms, angry with myself that she had been put in that position and that I hadn't either been at home or in my office to comfort her. "I'm sorry," I said. "I was meeting with Adam and then I had to go down to court…"

"It's fine," she replied, pulling back and looking up at me, "I don't expect you to be sat at your desk every hour of the day just waiting in case I call you. What did Adam say?"

"That he would speak to the police commissioner and make sure that the matter gets the attention it deserves. I hate pulling rank but…" I shook my head, "when it comes to your own family…"

"I know," she reached up and kissed me lightly. "I'm glad."

As she pulled back, I couldn't help but smell a hint of sweetness on her breath. "Have you been drinking?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Evelyn's eyes darkened suddenly, "What?"

"I just thought I could smell…"

"No, I haven't. Jesus Ben…what, I can't go for brunch without falling back into alcoholism?" She pulled away from me. "I had club soda, if you must know and I bought some candy on my way home and I might have had a couple of pieces. Wow, call the cops!" She reached into the changing bag and pulled out a half-eaten bag of pink and yellow confectionary. "Do you want to count the pieces? Maybe you want to suggest I have some sort of eating disorder too."

I glanced at Pamela who was looking at us slightly agog. "No, of course not. I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"My God…" Evelyn sighed heavily and made her way towards the bedroom with Kate. Torn between wanting to avoid an argument and confide in her how I felt, I followed her, closing the door behind us so that Pamela couldn't hear. "I can't believe you would accuse me of that."

"It was an overreaction, I'm sorry…"

"I've been sober since I left treatment, Ben, you _know _that. I haven't touched a drop."

"I know…"

"Honestly…do you spend your days thinking about the possibility of me having a drink?" She looked at me and I couldn't help thinking back to what Vanessa had said earlier.

"No, of course not," I reassured her. "It's just…"

"It's just what?"

I sighed. "Yesterday was pretty traumatic, for both of us, and I know how upset you were and I just…I guess I worry that when faced with a traumatic situation you might relapse. I should know better," I shrugged my shoulders. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Evelyn sighed and put Kate down on the table to change her. "Look, I get it. But I'm in a far better place now than I was then, even with what happened yesterday. I'm not going to drink, Ben. You have to trust me, otherwise…"

"I do trust you," I reassured her. "I just panicked a bit when you weren't here."

"I had a nice time with Michelle. It's good for me to have friends."

"Of course it is," I passed her a clean diaper. "What did you talk about?"

"Lots of things," she said. "I feel like I've known her forever and I've only spoken to her twice."

"Michelle Farisi…" I turned the name over in my head. "There's something familiar about that name, but I can't quite place it. Is she an attorney?"

Evelyn shook her head, "State appointed paralegal, but we didn't really talk about work. She says she's met you a couple of times though."

"Well, I don't remember," I said, taking Kate from her. "Anyway, am I forgiven?"

"Yes," she replied, kissing me again. "Now, what's for dinner?"

XXXX

I wasn't sure what it was that had woken me, but I found myself sitting bolt upright in bed, my breathing laboured, and when I glanced at the clock beside the bed the digital figures flipped to 3.27am. The room was dark, the apartment silent. Next to me I could feel the warm bulk of Evelyn's body and as my heart started to slow, I was able to pick out the gentle rhythm of her breath in sleep mingled with the occasional snuffle from Kate's cot.

Had I been dreaming? I couldn't even remember the last thought that had been in my head. We had had a pleasant evening together, ordering takeout and watching a movie. Pamela had been ecstatic at the offer of having Andrew over for dinner and after having a lengthy phone conversation with him, whereupon I had had to demand she hang up after an hour, she had sat amiably with us and we had all retired to bed in good spirits.

I knew it was probably just my subconscious pulling fragments of unease into my settled brain, but there was nothing more that I could do about what had happened. I had to leave it to the police to find out who was behind the phone call. We had to carry on as normal and not let whoever it was disrupt our lives anymore than he or she already had. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I slid back into bed and curled myself around Evelyn's back. She shifted slightly but didn't stir and as I lay in the dark, I couldn't help but think back over what she had said. The fact that I couldn't place Michelle Farisi irked me. If she was a state appointed paralegal then it was understandable that I would have met her. Many defendants elected to represent themselves in criminal proceedings, I just couldn't, for the life of me, remember any of them.

My eyes started to grow heavy and as sleep claimed me again, I pushed it to the back of my mind, knowing that whoever she was, she could wait until Monday.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long delay! **

"Yesterday really was so much fun."

"I enjoyed it too," I replied, crooking the phone receiver under my chin as I looked through the mail that had arrived that morning. "We should definitely do it again sometime. I feel as though I've known you forever."

"It's funny how you just click with some people that way," Michelle laughed. "I feel the same, not to mention the fact I'm constantly overwhelmed in your presence."

"Don't be ridiculous," I laughed. "I'm hardly someone to feel overwhelmed by."

"Inspired by then. And don't argue with me because it's true. I'm so looking forward to the ball you were talking about. Thank you so much for agreeing to get me some tickets."

"Not at all. Thank _you_ for being a good friend even if we have just met."

"Well, I'd better let you go," Michelle said. "No doubt you'll be psyching yourself up for Pamela's boyfriend coming over."

I glanced over to the couch where Ben and Pamela were sitting together companionably watching some television over a late breakfast. The atmosphere had drastically improved, which was not to be sniffed at and I was hoping against all hope that dinner later would be a success, for all our sakes. "Got it in one," I replied. "We'll catch up next week?"

"Definitely. Have a great weekend."

"Who was that?" Ben asked when I rung off.

"Michelle," I replied, putting the letters that weren't addressed to me down on the table and slitting open the two that were. "Hopefully we might be able to meet up again next week."

"That's nice," he replied, though there was a slight edge to his tone that I tried to ignore. Although I had forgiven him for his previous inquiry as to whether or not I had been drinking, I could tell that, for some reason, he didn't seem too keen on me making a new friend. But in light of everything that had happened of late, I didn't want to get into it.

One letter was my credit card statement, which I had been expecting, and the other was a folded piece of white paper with a note in neat handwriting.

_"Dear Mrs Stone, I just wanted to say what a huge fan of yours I am. I can't wait to meet you at the ball next month. Best wishes."_

It was unsigned and when I looked back into the envelope to see if anything else was included, I found one of our crested pins that we gave out at fundraisers. Turning it over in my hand, I looked again at the note, trying to find some familiarity in the limited prose.

"What is it?" Glancing up, I saw Ben looking over the back of the couch at me but not wanting to say anything in front of Pamela, I slid the note and the pin back into the envelope and put it back on the table.

"Nothing. Nothing important anyway. I think I might take Kate for a walk when she wakes up from her nap."

"Can I come?" Pamela asked, jumping up from the couch and turning to look at me. "Please?"

"Oh, sure," I replied. "I just assumed you'd be spending the afternoon getting yourself ready for Andrew coming over."

"I reckon I could use some fresh air first."

"No problem." I glanced at Ben who merely raised his eyebrows at me. Twenty minutes later, wrapped up against the cold, Pamela, Kate and I were making our way down the street towards the local park. She hadn't said anything when we had left the apartment, but the silence was companionable enough. The wind was colder than it had been the day before and I made a mental note to keep Kate out too long.

"I wanted to talk to you without Dad being there," Pamela said finally. "It's just…too embarrassing to say some things in front of him."

"Ok…"

"It's just…" she paused. "I really like Andrew and I want you and Dad to like him too."

"I'm sure we will, once we get to know him better."

"I kind of feel, like, well like Dad already has a preconceived idea about him."

I opened the gate to the park and pushed the stroller inside. "Well, it _was _a bit of a shock for him, for both of us, seeing him for the first time in your bed. I know you're sixteen Pam and you think you're an adult, but your father still sees you as his little girl and no father wants to walk in on his little girl having sex."

"I get that."

"And I suppose, the fact that Andrew, who is older than you, was willing to sleep with you in our apartment when I'm guessing he knew that your father and I didn't know about it…well that probably rankles a bit with your dad too."

"You mean, because it's disrespectful?"

"Something like that." I clicked the brake on the stroller, lifted Kate out and placed her in one of the baby swings, pushing her gently. "If he really likes you and cares about you, Andrew should be prepared to wait a bit."

"I told you before that he didn't rape me," she said quickly.

"I know and I believe you, but…" I paused, thinking how best to word what I wanted to say. "Rape isn't just…violence. It isn't strangers down dark alleys. It's people you know and sometimes, even when you think you're consenting, you're not really. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I hope you wanted to sleep with him as much as he wanted to sleep with you and you didn't just do it because you thought it would make him happy."

"No, it definitely wasn't like that. If anything, it was me that persuaded him."

"Ok."

"You still think that's wrong?"

I turned to look at her. "I think you're young, that's all. You've got a lot of life to live yet."

"If you…uh…if you could do things over again," she said carefully. "Would you?"

"What things?"

"Well…with your first husband I mean."

I paused, wondering why she was asking me this now and thinking back to the assumptions I had made from comments she had made earlier that I had thought were being directed at me. Her words now gave me a strange sensation in my stomach, and I couldn't really put my finger on what I was thinking. "If I had known what was going to happen to me before I married him, you mean?" She nodded. "No, I wouldn't have married him. But there's no way I _could_ have known."

_Or maybe you just didn't want to know._

"What about…what about other things?"

I looked at her again and saw that she was deliberately avoiding my gaze, her eyes fixed on another family in the distance sat on a bench. This time, I felt as though I knew what she was alluding to and, perhaps against my better judgement, decided to tackle her head on. "If there's something that you want to ask me, Pam, just come right out and ask it. Don't tap dance around it."

She met my gaze. "When you were in London and you were drinking…were there…were there other men? Other than Dad, I mean. Did you…did you sleep with other men?"

I took a breath, knowing that how I answered her was going to set in motion events that I wouldn't be able to alter. I thought back to the conversation I had had with Ben when I had asked if she had known about London and he had declared it wasn't something he would discuss with his teenage daughter. Was it something _I_ should be discussing with his teenage daughter?

"It's ok," she said after a moment's silence. "You don't have to answer. It's none of my business anyway."

"I did a lot of things in London that I'm not proud of," I said finally, choosing my words carefully. "They're not really things that I like revisiting. But I wasn't well at the time and I try to remind myself of that important fact when I _do_ revisit them."

"Sure," she said hurriedly in a tone that I could tell meant that she thought I wasn't being entirely truthful with her, and I wasn't. But I couldn't bring myself to say _yes, I slept around_. For some reason I felt as though the information would be used as a weapon against me, rather than anything that might bring us closer together.

"You're not me, Pam," I said finally. "You're young and you have so much future ahead of you. You should be excited about all the things you're going to do over the next ten years and beyond. Once you leave high school, the world's your oyster."

"I think I'm going to marry Andrew," she said, meeting my gaze again, a slight look of defiance in her eyes. "I'm going to marry him and have lots of babies."

XXXX

I chose not to tell Ben about the content of the conversation Pamela and I had had in the park. Something about the whole thing made me feel slightly uneasy. Not just the way she had questioned me about London, as if she already knew the answers, but also the way she had casually remarked about marrying Andrew. I hadn't taken her on at that point, not wanting to get into another argument with her and we had returned to the apartment not long after. If he had felt any atmosphere between us, Ben hadn't said anything. The rest of the afternoon past without any great incident and at six-thirty sharp, the buzzer sounded, and Pamela excitedly let Andrew in.

He was a good-looking boy, I had to give him that. Sandy blond hair swept across his blue eyes, dark jeans and a polo shirt that set off the muscularity of his shoulders. I could almost feel Ben bristle slightly at the manhood Andrew exuded and I could only hope that he was able to keep himself in check. To his credit, Andrew had brought flowers for me and he was polite and courteous during introductions and whilst we waited for dinner to be ready and as we made to sit down at the table, took it upon himself to offer up an apology.

"I wanted to apologise for the last time we met," he said. "It was totally inappropriate for you to find us the way we did and I'm sorry for the embarrassment caused. I realise now that we should have asked permission before engaging in anything like the behaviour you saw."

"Thank you," I said, when it became obvious that Ben didn't trust himself to answer.

"I want you to know that I really like Pam and that I respect her. Truly I do. I would never do anything to hurt her and I would never knowingly put her at risk or anything like that."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ben said tightly.

"So, tell us about yourself then, Andrew," I said quickly, hoping to bring the conversation onto a more pleasant topic. "Pam told us that you met at art class so clearly you have that in common."

He nodded, "I love to paint. Watercolors are my favourite."

"He's really good too," Pamela enthused. "You'll need to see some of his work."

"Are you studying art?" Ben asked.

"No, English and Politics," Andrew replied. "My mom sees art as more of a hobby than a career. Pam's really good though. She could definitely make it at art school. NYU has a great course there." Pamela beamed at him. "I'm actually thinking of going to law school after I graduate."

"Oh?" Ben looked at him, his interest clearly piqued. "Well I suppose you came to the right apartment."

"I guess so. Pam told me that you're both lawyers."

"I told him you were an Executive Assistant District Attorney," Pamela said proudly. "The best in the city."

"Well I think that might be stretching it a bit, but thank you for the compliment, Pam."

"I've read about you," Andrew said. "You've had a lot of interesting cases over the years. I'd love to talk about some of them with you some time. It would give me a real insight, especially as I think I'd want to work at the DA's office if I did get my licence."

"Well I suppose that would be all right," Ben replied gruffly.

"And you do such wonderful work at Women In Need, Mrs Stone," he turned to me. "Really inspiring. My mother's a big fan of yours. When I told her I was going out with Pam, I think she was more excited about the fact that I'd get to meet you than anything else."

I blushed slightly. "Well, that's very kind, thank you. It's nice to know that you're seen to be making a difference. What do your parents do?"

"My mum's a bank teller in midtown," he replied. "My dad left us when I was seven."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That must have been difficult for both of you."

Andrew shrugged. "He reappeared about four years ago but…well…it was a bit late by then. I haven't seen him since. Pam's always saying how lucky she feels to have three parents who care about her."

I looked over at Pam who was still smiling at Andrew and couldn't help but think that that had been a slight over-exaggeration on her part, if she had said it at all. Andrew was very good with words but I would have been no attorney at all if I hadn't been able to detect a little bullshit when I heard it.

_At least he's trying. You have to give him that._

"He seems nice enough," I commented to Ben as we made coffee in the kitchen, leaving the two lovebirds to chat quietly on the couch. "He certainly knows how to say all the right things."

"Huh, he's too smooth if you ask me," he replied. "All that crap about wanting to talk about cases and how inspiring you are to his mother?"

"Are you saying that I'm not inspiring?"

"Of course not, but come on! He's trying to get himself into our good books after what happened, no doubt so that we'll lift Pamela's grounding and they can go at it like rabbits again."

"Stop being so dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic, Evelyn. I appreciated his apology but let's see it for what it was, ok?"

I chose not to argue the toss with him any further and the remainder of the evening passed pleasantly enough. At ten-thirty, Andrew excused himself to head home and I was glad that there had been no suggestion of a sleepover or even any request for him to be alone with Pamela. She saw him out into the hallway, and I made a point of switching the television on so that whatever was being said needn't carry. Ben and I set about the task of clearing up until I heard the apartment door close and Pamela appeared in the kitchen beside us.

"Well?" she looked at us expectantly. "What do you think?"

"I think he's very charming," I said. "And he clearly thinks a lot of you."

"Dad?"

"I appreciated his apology," Ben replied, turning around from the sink. "And I agree with Evelyn, he obviously likes you a lot."

"I knew you'd like him!"

"I didn't say that."

"But…"

"Pam, he's still nineteen, you're still sixteen and I'm still not happy about you having a physical relationship with him."

"Even now that you've met him?"

"It would have been nice to have met him beforehand."

"You just said you appreciated his apology!" she exclaimed.

"And I did, but it would have been nice…"

"Yeah, if he had come to the door and said, '_hey Mr Stone, do you mind if I fuck your daughter?'"_

"Pam…" I said warningly, knowing only too well where this was going to go. "It's been a nice evening, let's not spoil it."

"I'm not spoiling anything, he is! Uptight, sanctimonious asshole that he is! You think you're so fucking perfect, Dad, don't you! You've never made a mistake in your life, have you?"

"Stop this Pamela, stop it right now," Ben said, his voice quiet with anger.

"You got that woman killed, that witness, didn't you?! You made her testify and she got killed, _because of you!_"

Ben froze beside me, and I could see the look on his face, the one he always wore whenever Ann Madsen was mentioned directly or alluded to. The circumstances of the case were no real secret and his name had been in the press after the event, but to my knowledge, it had never been discussed around the table, never aired as a family issue, nor was it likely to be.

Pamela stared at him, her fists balled at her sides, as though she expected a response from him. He didn't say anything for a long moment and then turned back to the sink. "I think we've said enough, don't you?"

"You can't even deny it, can you?" Pamela said, her tone mocking. "It was your fault she got killed and you can't even deny it! You expect to be forgiven for that mistake and yet you won't forgive Andrew for sleeping with me?"

"Pam, there are things that you don't know about," I said, desperate to shut the conversation down, "things that you don't need to concern yourself with…"

"Oh, isn't there just?" she turned to me. "Like what a fucking slut you are?!"

Though her words weren't a surprise to me, given the subtext of the conversation we had had earlier that day, they still winded me. The word was one that I had used on myself over and over since London, though not one I had shared out loud outside of therapy, not even with Ben. The misogynistic, sexist undertone of the word was bad enough to think about internally without giving to anyone else to band about.

"What did you say?" Ben asked, and I could hear the incredulity in his voice.

"I called her a slut, because that's what she is," Pam said viciously. "How many men did you sleep with in London, Evelyn? Can you even remember? I hope you made sure she got tested before you fucked her, Dad!"

"No!" I stepped in front of Ben as he took a step towards her. In my head, I knew that he would never lay a finger on her and yet, in that moment, it seemed as though anything was possible.

"Go ahead and hit me! See if I care! I'm going to marry Andrew and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" Pamela whirled around and ran for the apartment door, throwing it open and then letting it bang loudly behind her.

For a moment, Ben and I stood in the kitchen in stunned silence, the only noise coming from the ticking of the clock on the wall. After what seemed like forever, he turned to me. "How does she know about Ann Madsen?"

"How does she know about London?" I countered, suddenly feeling nauseous. Grabbing a glass from the counter, I quickly ran it under the tap and then drained the contents.

"I'm calling the police," Ben said, moving back out into the living room.

"She's sixteen," I reminded him. "The police aren't going to do anything about her running off."

"I'm not talking about that," he said, lifting the receiver. "I'm going to report Andrew for statutory rape."

"Ben, don't…"

"Why the hell shouldn't I?"

"Because he's not the one who kicked off with us tonight, Pam is, and if you do this, you're only going to make things worse, a lot worse."

He held my gaze for a moment and then replaced the receiver with a sigh. "I suppose you're right. We don't even know his last name for God's sake."

"It's Swann," I said, sinking down onto the couch. "Andrew Swann. Honestly, why did you have to start the argument with her? Why couldn't you just have said that you liked him and leave it at that?"

"What did you say?"

"I said, why couldn't you just have said that you liked him…"

"No, before that." He loomed above me. "Andrew's last name, what did you say it was?"

"Swann," I replied, "why?" His face suddenly paled and my insides turned cold. "What is it?"

"We need to call the police."

"But…"

"We need to call the police _now!_"


	12. Chapter 12

**Please review if you can!**

"Ben, don't you think you might be slightly overreacting?"

I paused from where I had been pacing up and down in front of the window and looked over to where Evelyn was sitting on the couch watching me with an expression of both concern and slight disbelief. To my irritation, she hadn't immediately joined me in my panic and had instead tried to reason with me like an attorney. "No, I am not overreacting. Haven't you heard anything that I just said?"

"Yes, but…"

"But what?"

"But you don't even know that they're related." I snorted and shook my head. "You don't, Ben. There must be hundreds of people named Swann in the five boroughs. The chances of Andrew having any connection…"

"He's his son, Evelyn, he has to be. You heard what he said. He said that his father left when he was seven. If he's nineteen now, then that's twelve years ago. Nineteen eighty-five. The year I got Swann put away."

"Ben…"

"And he also said that his father reappeared four years ago and then disappeared again. Nineteen ninety-three. That's when Swann got released after the police found Cohen's body and then a few months later he was arrested again for commissioning Bobbitt's murder." I took a breath as she continued to look at me. "I can't believe that you don't remember the case."

"I had a few things going on in my life at that time," she reminded me. "I recall reading something about it…"

I sat down in the chair opposite her and sat forwards. "The man is a snake. He sued me for malicious prosecution after he won his retrial. Do you know how humiliating that was?" I thought back to those dark times, to the nights spent in my apartment going over and over it all in my head, feeling as though I was totally alone, no-one to turn to, no-one to confide in. Maybe if I'd had her, it would all have been so different. "Everyone in the office was looking at me, questioning me, wondering about my ability." I shook my head. "You have no idea what that was like."

"Well he obviously didn't win."

"Of course he didn't. The lawsuit fell when he went back to jail but still…I had to sit through a deposition while he went through all my financial records and picked over the bones of my life, not to mention my divorce." I shuddered slightly at the memory of the look on Swann's face as he had cheerfully told me I should have hired a better divorce attorney. "He and his state appointed paralegal…"

Evelyn didn't say anything for a long moment and then sat forwards, putting her hand over mine. "Ok, let's say that Andrew _is_ Philip Swann's son. It doesn't mean that he's anything like his father. It doesn't mean that he's a bad person…"

"No?"

"No. A child isn't the sum total of their parents…"

"Would you say that if we were talking about Edward's son?" The words left my mouth before I had properly thought them through. Her mouth dropped open slightly and she pulled her hand from mine, sitting back on the couch. Immediately, I felt bad for having brought him up, but I couldn't deny that there was a parallel there and eagerness to get my point across spurred me to continue. "I mean, what if Kate grows up and brings little Jack Burns home to meet us. How would you feel then?" She looked away, her jaw clenched, and I couldn't read her emotions. "I am not having Swann or anyone related to him around my family, Evelyn. If Andrew is his son then that's it. Over. Finished. Whether Pamela likes it or not." As though I had only just remembered that she had turned tail and pursued him after our fight, I got to my feet again and resumed my pacing. "I'm going to call the police."

"They are not going to be interested in a sixteen-year old girl missing for an hour," she said tightly. "Come on, you _know_ that."

"So, what? I just wait until she doesn't come home for the next twenty-four hours?" I rounded on her again.

"If you call them, then that's what they'll tell you."

"Fine, then I'll call Lennie."

"Don't you think we've pulled enough favours? You've already got Lennie and his partner looking into what happened with the phone call from Kate's daycare."

"So?"

"So, they are not our own personal investigators."

"_You_ wanted to find out what was behind that phone call as much as I did," I reminded her angrily.

"I know that…"

"Well then if you don't want me to call Lennie, I'll call Mike." Lifting the phone, I punched in the number even as Evelyn sighed and shook her head. "It rang out three or four times before Elizabeth answered. "Liz? It's Ben Stone?"

"Ben?" she replied, sounding surprised to hear from me. "Is everything all right?"

"Not really. I was hoping I could talk to Mike."

"Of course, hold on…"

I could hear the sound of muffled voices before, seconds later, Mike's voice replaced that of his wife, "Everything ok?"

"No," I said, glancing at Evelyn again, "it's not."

XXXX

"So, how long as she been gone?"

"Two hours now."

"And you've no idea where she might have gone?"

I shook my head. "We don't know where this Andrew character lives and even if we did…who knows if that's where they are."

"Uh huh…" Mike looked at Evelyn and then back at me again. "What makes you think that Andrew is related to Philip Swann?"

"His last name is Swann," I said, "and the dates he gave for his father being in and out of his life match with the dates that Swann would have been in and out of prison."

"That's it?"

"What more do you want?"

"Ben…" Mike sat forwards, clearly trying to form words of diplomacy, "You could have called your local precinct about this."

"We didn't think they would take it seriously," I replied hurriedly.

"Yeah…" he looked at Evelyn again and then back at me. "You know that there's nothing we can do until Pamela's been gone for twenty-four hours. We can't log her as a missing person until that time frame's passed."

"This is Philip Swann we're talking about here," I looked at him, almost unable to believe that he wasn't taking this whole thing seriously. "You know him, Mike, you remember what he was like." He didn't say anything, and I angrily got to my feet. "I can't believe nobody else is concerned about this!"

"Of course we're concerned," Evelyn said. "But Mike's right, the police can't do anything right now and we have no proof that Andrew is related to Swann and even if he is…isn't Swann still in prison?"

"So?"

"So…" she spread her hands. "What harm could Pam really come to?"

I shook my head and started pacing again, anger and frustration coursing through me. It was like travelling back in time to Sid Cohen's body being discovered. Claire had been assigned to assist me in the investigation and in the beginning, even she had doubted Swann's guilt. She had thought I was being over zealous, that I was blinkered and couldn't see past the fact that, on the face of it, there was evidence to suggest that he might have been innocent. Fortunately, that had all unravelled over time and she had been forced to admit that she had been wrong, finally seeing him as I did. It had rankled at the time, really rankled, and it did so now, more so for the fact that my own wife couldn't see the truth.

"Tell you what," Mike said after a prolonged silence. "I'll contact the local precinct and let them know that you have concerns. If after twenty-four hours you still haven't heard from her, you can call them and they'll already have all the details."

"Couldn't you find out Andrew's address? He told us his mother was a bank teller in Midtown. Surely it wouldn't be difficult to find out where she lived and get someone to check and see if Pam is there?"

"Ben, you're putting Mike in an awkward situation," Evelyn said quietly.

"I don't think I am," I replied. "I think I'm just expressing the concern any father would for his daughter, right Mike?" I looked at him pointedly, remembering the conversation we had had at the bistro the previous weekend when he and Elizabeth had announced they were expecting. It wasn't my usual style to play on something so personal, but I couldn't help but feel as though nobody was listening.

Mike got to his feet and sighed, "I'll see what I can do, ok? I can't promise any more than that."

"I appreciate that," I held out my hand and he shook it, though I could tell he still thought I was overreacting. Evelyn followed him to the door and saw him out before turning back to face me. "You think I shouldn't have done that?"

"Does it matter what I think?" she replied. "You haven't listened to a single thing I've said since Pam left."

"Evelyn, she is my daughter…"

"You think that I don't know that? I live here too. I'm her stepmother. I love and care about her as much as you do."

"Do you?"

Her eyes narrowed, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" I didn't want to say it and yet the weight of my own fears was pressing down on my chest. Fortunately, she saved me the trouble. "Are you trying to suggest that because I'm not her mother that I don't care about what happens to her?"

"No, that's not…"

"Wow…" she shook her head. "That's really low, Ben. The entire time we have been together your kids have a_lways_ been at the forefront of my mind. I know that I have done things in the past to hurt you but the thing that has always plagued me is how much I hurt them by leaving and I have tried _so _hard to make that up to them over the last few years. I have tried to be the best stepmother I could be and now you're going to turn around and tell me I'm not good enough? That I don't care enough?"

"I'm sorry…"

"If biology is so important, why haven't you called Laura? You still haven't even told her that Pam's been having sex, have you?"

"Why do you think I haven't told her?" I replied. "You know what's she like, and we seem to be co-parenting pretty reasonably right now. She hears about this and she'll be all over it in two seconds. Do _you_ want that hassle?"

"Maybe you need to stop hoarding all the responsibility," Evelyn said. "You've already atoned for the years that you perhaps weren't as present in the kids' lives as you could have been. As you've alluded to, she _is_ Pam's mother and she should shoulder equal responsibility for this."

I paused, digesting her words, and couldn't help but see there was at least a grain of truth in them. It had been three years since Peter and Pamela had come to live with me and there had been many occasions when it hadn't been lost on me that I had missed out on so much of their lives. Perhaps I was trying to make up for things by trying to deal with all the problems that teenagers bring on my own. And yet, I had Evelyn, but all I seemed to be doing right now was pushing her to the side. "You're right," I said finally. "I should have told her when we found out that Pam and Andrew were having a relationship. She needs to know."

"Yes, she does."

"And I didn't mean to imply that you don't care. I _know_ that you care. I _know_ that you love them and I know that I'm lucky you were willing to be their stepmother. I'm just…" I fought for the right words to let her know how I was feeling. "I guess I've always been a little worried for Pam. Deep down, she's open and trusting and I don't want someone, anyone, to take advantage of that. And the thought of Philip Swann having anything to do with her…" I broke off, feeling a wave of emotion sweep over me.

"Ben…" Evelyn stepped forward and pulled me in to her arms. "I understand that, of course I do. I'm just worried that you're putting two and two together and getting five, that's all. Not to mention the fact that you've seen what Pam's been like these past few weeks and I don't want you to do something that's going to potentially push her further and further away. God knows we have enough to worry about as it is."

I pulled back and looked at her. "I just need to know. I just need to know if they're related, that's all. If they aren't, then there's no problem. Well, no problem about that at any rate."

"And even if they _are_ related, we need to give Andrew a chance," she said. "I'd like to think that, in the scenario you posed earlier, I'd be able to give Jack Burns a chance."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" I studied her face.

"Yes," she replied, though I wasn't completely convinced. "I do."

XXXX

I elected not to go to bed that night. Instead, I sat on the couch with the television on mute watching the pictures swirl in front of me. My brain was too active for sleep. All I could think about was my daughter, my little girl, being involved with that man. I knew that what Evelyn had said was right. Swann was in prison, what could he possibly do to hurt Pam and yet…

At two am, I made myself a cup of coffee and snuck into the bedroom to check that both Kate and Evelyn were still sleeping, before returning to the couch. Flicking through the channels, I found an old movie from the forties and it somehow captured my attention. I became engrossed in the lives of the characters and the story was just reaching the climax when I heard a key in the door. Leaping to my feet, I switched the set off in time to see Pamela come in. The moment she saw me, her expression turned from fear to relief to anguish and before she had even closed the door, she descended into tears.

Forgoing any anger I might have felt towards her, I hurried forwards and pulled her into my arms, relieved to feel her there, relieved that she was home, relieved that she was all right. She wrapped her arms around me and cried into my chest for what felt like hours but, in reality, was only a few minutes before pulling back and wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, black mascara smeared across her face. "I'm so sorry Dad…"

"It's all right," I reassured her, hugging her again. "It's all right. I'm just glad that you came back."

"I didn't mean what I said about you. I don't think you're an asshole…" she started crying again and I propelled her over to the couch and sat her down. "I just…I don't know. When you said that you didn't like Andrew…"

"Uh…I didn't say that, exactly," I reminded her. "All I said was that it would have been nice to have met him before you started sleeping with him." The words caught in my throat, but I forced myself to keep my tone neutral. "And he was very pleasant to talk to."

Pam looked up and met my gaze, "Really?"

"Really," I nodded. "Did you…did you go to his place after you left here?"

She shook her head, "No. I didn't have enough money to get downtown and he had already gone so…I just…walked around for a while."

"Oh Pam…" I sighed heavily, "you've been gone hours. You should have come back before now."

"I was scared that you would be angry with me after what I said."

I paused, knowing that I _had _been angry, been furious in fact, but that at the end of the day, what did it really matter? "Well…I've been called worse things than an asshole in my time."

She looked at me again, "You have?"

"Oh sure. Someone called me a gay-bashing son-of-a-bitch once."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really, and I got punched in the face for my trouble too so, you calling me an asshole…that's nothing in the grand scheme of things." I paused. "But you do owe Evelyn an apology too for what you said to her."

Pamela looked down at her hands. "Because I called her a slut?"

I winced slightly at her use of the word. "Yes. That was a pretty horrible thing to say, not to mention the fact that it's not true." She lifted her gaze to mine again and I could tell that she wanted to say something. "You know that, right?"

"If you sleep with a lot of people…"

"Yeah…?" I prompted when she didn't continue.

"I mean…doesn't that make you…I mean…well…"

I paused again, thinking about my own preconceptions. I remembered a case that I had prosecuted six years earlier where a college student had been gang raped at a frat party and the defence had made much of the fact that the victim had had something of a reputation. I recalled being somewhat surprised in my own staid way, that sex seemed to be something that was partaken of with no real thought for consequences or anything else. And I had been a college student in the sixties, the height of free love. Had I thought that Andrea Fermi was a slut? Had I ever thought that of my own wife?

In her first call to me from the treatment center upstate, Evelyn had apologised for drinking and for being with other men. I had accepted her apology and forgiven her for whatever transgressions she felt that she had committed, but beyond that we rarely talked about that side of her condition. On the occasions that she opened up to me about drinking or her feelings about her late husband, I listened and gave her the reassurance that I felt she needed, but she never mentioned the nameless, faceless men that she had been with and I never asked. I suppose that a part of me didn't want to dwell on it, didn't want to think about her being with anyone else, but was that because it still hurt somewhere deep down that she had rejected me or was it because I still had some chauvinism in me, buried away somewhere?

"I think that people sleep with other people for lots of different reasons," I said finally, "and it's not fair or appropriate to label a person for that, especially not a woman." She nodded and I cleared my throat, unsure that I really wanted to ask the next question, but feeling as though I had been led to it. "Besides Andrew, have you…?"

"No," she replied hurriedly. "He's been the only one." I tried hard not to show my relief, but it must have been obvious as she put her hand over mine. "And we've been careful, Dad, every time." I nodded, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the content of the conversation and yet relieved that she felt able to speak to me about it. "Is it ok if I apologise to Evelyn in the morning? I'm really tired."

"Uh, of course, that's fine," I said, "you should get to bed and get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow."

"Thanks Dad," she hugged me tightly again and made for her room.

"Pam?"

"Yeah?"

I weighed up the wisdom of my next question but knew that I had to ask it. "Has Andrew…I mean, has he told you anything more about his father?"

She frowned, "How do you mean?"

"Well, he said at dinner that his father had been in and out of his life. I guess I was just wondering if he had told you any more about him. His name…what he does for a living, that sort of thing." _Is his name Philip Swann?_ was what I really wanted to ask.

"No," she shook her head. "He doesn't seem to want to talk about him. Why?"

"No reason," I replied quickly. "I guess that if he's going to be around then it would be good to know a bit more about his family, that's all." She disappeared into her room and closed the door quietly behind her. Feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me, I slipped into my own bedroom and quickly undressed for bed. When I slid in beside Evelyn, she rolled over and looked at me.

"I heard voices, but I didn't want to intrude. Is Pam ok?"

"She's fine," I replied, "she was just walking the streets this whole time."

"So, she wasn't with Andrew?"

"No. She's going to apologise to you in the morning for what she said."

"That's all right."

"No, it isn't. She needs to say sorry, Evelyn. It was a crass thing to say and she knows it."

"It was true though, right?"

I kissed her gently, "It wasn't true, not at all. I don't want you thinking that."

"You've never thought it?"

"No," I lied, "I haven't.


	13. Chapter 13

I woke first on Sunday morning just before seven. Ben lay sleeping beside me, no doubt exhausted from his extremely late night and so I lifted Kate from her cot and made my way into the living room in order to give him peace. Pamela's bedroom door was closed when I passed and, once in the kitchen, I put Kate into her highchair and set about making her some toast for breakfast. Although I thrived on busy family life, I also enjoyed those times when it was just Kate and I, the only noise being her babbling at me. It was our special time together and I cherished it, having thought for so long that I would never get to experience it.

Once she was happily playing with the buttered soldiers, I set about making breakfast for the rest of us, deciding that we could use something a bit special and therefore selecting to make pancakes topped with crispy bacon and syrup. It was a favourite of Pamela's and though I knew that, by rights, I should be angry with her as opposed to pandering to her, I felt that it couldn't hurt in the circumstances. As I was placing the bacon in the pan, Kate let out a happy squeal and I turned to see Pamela standing the kitchen doorway, watching me apprehensively. Dressed in faded pink pyjamas and fluffy slippers, she looked far younger than her years.

"Morning," I greeted her cautiously.

"Morning," she replied quietly. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes and bacon. Are you hungry?"

"Starving. Can I help?"

"You could lay the table for me if you don't mind." I watched as she took cutlery from the drawer and moved over to the table, carefully placing it at three equidistant points before turning back to look at me again.

"Where's Dad?"

"Still sleeping."

"I…uh…" she paused and shuffled slightly from foot to foot. "I owe you an apology…for what I said last night. I…I shouldn't have called you a slut. I'm sorry."

"That's all right," I replied after a moment, turning the bacon over with the tongs.

She didn't say anything for a long moment. "I thought you'd be angrier."

"Would you prefer if I was?"

"No…"

I turned to look at her again, deciding to seize the bull by the horns as it were, primarily because we were alone together. "You know Pam…something must have made you say it. It must be something that's in your head." She looked down at the ground. "You obviously have some idea that my behaviour at one time or another, merits me being given that label. Do you want to tell me about that?"

"It's just…" she nudged the carpet with her foot. "I don't know, it's…"

"Spit it out," I turned the gas off under the bacon and started piling it on top of the pancakes.

"I mean…you left Dad…us…just like that and went to London and I guess…I guess I just always wondered if, you know, if…well…"

"If there was anyone else?" She nodded. "There was no-one else, not like your dad, if that's what you mean."

"I mean…" she paused again, her cheeks pinking slightly. "You were drinking a lot and I know that when you get drunk…things can happen and…you told us when you came back that you had been lonely and…and I know that things were said when you gave evidence against your husband…"

Her last phrase brought me up slightly short and I couldn't help thinking back to that terrible time when I had testified against Edward and had to listen to and answer questions about our sex life. Even back then, before London had ever happened, I had worried about what all of that evidence had made me look like and, if I was being honest, it was something I wasn't quite yet past. I paused, weighing up the wisdom of what I might or might not say next and decided, for better or worse, that honesty was in all likelihood the best policy. If Ben didn't like that, then I would deal with that later. "When I went to London, your dad and I were separated. And that was my doing, I know, but…yes, I was very lonely, and I was drinking too much and…yes, I did sleep with other men." Her eyes widened. "And I regret that, very much. But it wasn't done to hurt your dad…I did it to hurt myself and, hurting myself…well…that was part of the reason that I needed treatment. And, to kind of answer the question that you posed last night, I was tested when I arrived at the clinic and I hadn't contracted anything. Not that I had expected to because, despite everything, I was always careful."

I took a breath, surprised by how relieved I felt at having said what I had. It was the first time anything surrounding my extra-curricular activities in London had ever been brought up outside of therapy and a part of me was glad I had felt comfortable enough to say it.

"As far as what happened at the trial goes, a lot of what my husband did to me was wrong, but there was nothing wrong with the relationship, the physical relationship, I had with him before all of that started. Sex…with someone you love, someone you care about as I did at that time, isn't anything to be ashamed of." I held her gaze, hoping that I was convincing her more than I felt I was convincing myself.

"Wow," Pamela said softly. "I didn't think…I mean, I thought you would just tell me to mind my own business."

"Well, it isn't really your business," I replied, turning back to the breakfast, "but if it's going to be an issue between us then I think it's better that we talk about it, don't you?" She nodded. "So, if you think that what I've told you means that I was, or am, a slut…then I guess it's your right to think that." Lifting the plates, I carried them through to the table.

"I don't think that. I guess…" she paused again, "being with Andrew...I guess it's just made me think a bit, that's all. I can't imagine having sex with anyone else."

I couldn't help the smile that crept across my face at her words. "Well, that's lovely if you think that. But if you _do_ end up being with someone else someday, that definitely doesn't make you a slut."

"What are we talking about?"

We both turned to see Ben standing at the bedroom door still in his own pyjamas, his housecoat knotted around his waist. He looked at me, then Pamela then back at me again and I knew he had heard at least some of what I had said.

"I was just talking to Pam about what she said about me last night," I replied, lifting Kate out of her highchair and putting her into the bouncer next to the table. When I met his gaze again, he looked concerned. "It's fine, I think we've managed to straighten a few things out."

Pamela turned back to the kitchen to switch on the coffee pot and he came up close beside me. "What did you tell her?"

"The truth. I told her that I had been with other men when I was in London but that we weren't together at the time and that if she wants to think that makes me a slut, then that's up to her." He looked slightly shocked and I shook my head. "There's no point in having some kind of undercurrent going on all the time. I'd rather be honest, wouldn't you?"

Before he could reply, Pamela came back out of the kitchen and, once the coffee had brewed, we sat down at the table to eat. The conversation turned to generalities, but I could tell there was still an underlying tension between father and daughter.

"I…uh…" Ben started and then stopped. "I think we should talk about some other things that were said last night." Pamela looked at him. "In addition to calling me an asshole…"

"I apologised for that," she said hurriedly.

"I know, but you also mentioned something else that has clearly been bothering you. You said that I was responsible for a witness in a case being killed." Pamela ducked her head. "Is that something you want to talk about?"

"Is that something _you_ want to talk about?" she asked.

Ben let out a long sigh and then took a mouthful of coffee. I could feel anxiety emanating from him in waves, the way it always did when the subject was raised and I knew that it was because, deep down, he still blamed himself. "I had a case shortly before I left the DA's office where a man was murdered by being pushed into the traffic. It turned out, that someone connected to the murder, the man who eventually stood trial, was the business partner of one of my witnesses. The man who committed the murder had connections to the Russian mob and to her business partner and she had seen the murderer in her partner's office the night before it happened." He paused. "I wanted her to testify to what she had seen but…she was afraid of what might happen to her, so she lied in court and said that she _hadn't_ seen him."

"So…what did you do?" Pamela asked when he didn't continue.

He lifted his head and met my gaze briefly before looking at her again. "I told her that if she testified then she would be given witness protection and if she didn't testify, then I would prosecute her and she would go to jail for a long time…and that she would never be safe." He paused again. "And that threat convinced her to testify and her business partner was convicted. And, after the trial, when she was being moved into protective custody…she was shot and killed."

No-one said anything for a long moment, and I held my breath, hoping that Pamela would say what I wanted her to, what I knew Ben wanted her to.

"But how was that your fault?" she asked. "You didn't kill her."

"No, but if I had never threatened to prosecute her, if I had just kept her out of it, then she would most likely still be alive today." He looked at me and I could see the pain in his eyes. "And I found that hard to take, so that's why I resigned when I did."

Pamela looked at me quickly, "And because Evelyn left."

Ben looked at me again, "Yes, and because Evelyn left."

I looked down at my plate, knowing that he wasn't chastising me, no more than I was still able to chastise myself, but wishing that I had been there for him at the time when it mattered instead of making things ten times worse by fleeing.

"I remember us talking about it," Pamela said. "Peter brought it up one day just after you resigned but…you didn't really want to talk about it."

"No, well it's not something that I like to revisit." He took another mouthful of coffee. "So, I'm interested to know why you felt you had to bring it up."

"Well, it was Andrew who mentioned it…"

"Andrew?"

She nodded "He'd been doing some reading up about you, like he said at dinner, and….and he mentioned it to me. I think he thought that I might know something about it. I'm sorry that I said anything about it though, I didn't mean…well I guess I _did_ mean to say it to upset you but…" she looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's ok," he said, after a brief silence. "In future, I'd prefer you ask me things rather than throwing accusations at me, at us. Does that sound fair?" She nodded. "Good."

We finished eating and Pamela then excused herself to go for a shower, get dressed and start her homework, leaving Ben and I alone to tidy up the debris of breakfast. For a long moment, he didn't say anything to me, the only sound being the clicking of crockery and the running of water as we moved around each other in a practiced dance that only living together could perfect.

"Andrew mentioned it," he said finally.

"I suppose if he _has_ been doing some research on you, on us…"

"Why though?" he turned to look at me. "Why would he be reading up on either of us?"

"Because you're his girlfriend's father and, perhaps, he wanted to impress you."

"By talking to my daughter about Ann Madsen? You think that's something that's meant to impress me?" he closed a cupboard door with slightly more ferocity than I had expected and I paused in what I was doing, taking a deep breath before I spoke again.

"The case clearly still bothers you…"

"Of course it still bothers me. Going to her funeral didn't help and even though I'm grateful you came to her grave with me that one time, I still…" he trailed off and I put my hand on his arm.

"I know that I've said this before, Ben, and you haven't been particularly willing to hear it, but I'm going to say it again anyway." He looked at me. "It really might help for you to talk to someone about it." I expected him to shake his head, to say that wasn't an option, to find any excuse to label my suggestion as ludicrous, but instead he said nothing for a long moment and simply turned the cup he was holding over and over in his hands.

"Maybe you're right," he said finally. "Maybe it _would_ be good to talk to someone, about a lot of things, not just Ann."

To say I was surprised by his response was an understatement. In the aftermath of my being shot and losing the baby I had always felt that he would have benefited from some form of therapy, even though, at the time, I was already on my way to sabotaging myself, I wasn't blind enough not to be able to see his suffering, particularly his continued belief that he had let me down on so many occasions and been unable to protect me.

"Maybe you could ask Liz to recommend someone," I said. "Maybe you could ask her today when you call to tell Mike that Pamela came home."

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows, "Is that your way of telling me you think I owe Mike an apology?"

"I think it's only fair that you keep him up to speed. After all, he did come all the way over here on a Saturday night because you had it in your head that Pam was mixed up in something serious."

His expression darkened again, "I'm still not convinced that she isn't."

"Then ask her. This morning has been about honesty, so why not just ask her if Andrew is related to Philip Swann?"

"I asked her last night if he talked about his father and she said no. She doesn't know anything." He shook his head in frustration. "My best bet would be to ask Andrew myself."

"I'm not sure that's a very good idea…"

"Why not? It would put an end to all this, one way or the other."

The ringing of the phone put paid to anything further I might have had to say on the subject, and I carried on clearing up whilst he went to answer it. I was still slightly stunned that he had agreed that some form of therapy would be a good idea and I didn't want to push too hard on other matters.

"That was Detective Bannerman," he said, coming back into the kitchen. "He said he's got some information on the phone call and he wants to come over to talk to us about it."

XXXX

Bannerman didn't look altogether thrilled at the fact that he was working on a Sunday and his greeting when he came into the apartment had a layer of frost on it, but we sat down on the couch and I offered him coffee, which he declined, before opening his notebook.

"We checked the luds on your office phone," he said, looking briefly at me. "The call that purportedly came from your daughter's daycare was traced to a payphone upstate in Clinton County. Know anyone that lives up there?"

I shook my head, "No, not that I know of."

"Unfortunately, there's no cameras anywhere near the phone so we can't obtain any video evidence to try and identify who it was. It's in a pretty isolated area." He paused. "You absolutely didn't recognise the voice on the phone?"

"No, I didn't." He sighed heavily. "So, what now?"

"There really is very little more we can do. No witnesses, no suspects, no recording of the call…" he looked at Ben, slightly defiantly, as though he knew that, perhaps, strings had been pulled. "If you have any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them."

Ben clenched his jaw before responding. "My wife said that there have been some hang ups to our phone here."

Bannerman looked at me. "When was this?"

"Friday," I replied. "It happened a couple of times, no message left or when I answered, no-one was there. I might not have thought anything of it if it hadn't been for what happened."

"Well…we could check the luds on _your_ phone, see if there's any pattern. If one of them came from the same payphone, I guess that would be something." He made a note in his pad and then stood up. "I'm sorry for taking up your time on a Sunday."

"Thank you, Detective," Ben said, extending his hand. "We appreciate it."

A thought suddenly entered my head, "Detective?" He turned from the door to look at me again. "Clinton County's a fairly big area and you said the payphone in question was in an isolated area?" He nodded. "Which part? Which town?"

"It was on the outskirts of Dannemora."

"Wait…" I said, and he turned back again, unable to hide the impatient look that crossed his face. "I got a letter last week and it was postmarked Clinton County. There was no message, just a copy of an article about me that had been in the newspaper."

He frowned, "Which paper?"

"The _Ledger._"

"Did you keep the article, maybe the envelope?"

"No," I replied, suddenly feeling frustrated with myself. "I already had a copy of the article myself, so I threw the new one and the envelope away. It just…it just came to me there." I looked at Ben. "Maybe there's a connection?"

"It's possible," Bannerman nodded. "Have there been any other letters?"

"No…well, actually…" I hurried over to the drawer in the corner and, reaching in, pulled out the letter I had received the other day. "This came for me. It wasn't signed or anything." I passed it to him and watched as he read over the words.

_"Dear Mrs Stone, I just wanted to say what a huge fan of yours I am. I can't wait to meet you at the ball next month. Best wishes."_ He looked at me again. "That's it?"

"Well they also enclosed one of our pins, but there was nothing to suggest who sent it."

"You've no idea who this could be from?"

"No."

"What's this ball they're referencing?"

"Women In Need are hosting a charity fundraiser next month at the Plaza," I replied. "We've sold hundreds of tickets."

"Have you kept any kind of list as to who's purchased them?"

"No, we've just been trying to sell as many as possible, you know, family, friends, friends of friends…" I trailed off, suddenly realising it might have been wise to have kept track after all.

"What about the envelope this came in?"

"I threw it away, but it should still be in the trash…" I hurried into the kitchen and opened the bin. It was half-full and, somewhere near the bottom, I found what I was looking for. Lifting it out, I turned it over in my hand and saw the faint stamp of the postmark. "Clinton County," I said, handing it over to him. "I didn't…I didn't notice that before…" A strange feeling started in my stomach and I looked at Ben who instinctively came over and slid his arm around my waist.

"So, it's possible these all came from the same person," Bannerman mused. "Do you mind if I keep these?" I shook my head. "Thank you for your time. I'll be in touch as soon as I have anything else."

As Ben showed him out, I sat down heavily on the couch, feeling my head swim slightly at the revelation. I had assumed each letter, each phone call, was unconnected and yet…Clinton County. What was so special about that place? Why would anyone in that area be concerned about me or my family, enough to pretend that my daughter was ill enough to be taken to hospital?

"Are you all right?" Ben asked, sitting down beside me. "You're as white as a sheet."

"I guess I'm just a little freaked out by all this," I replied. "The way it all seems so…so planned."

"_If_ they're connected."

"You don't think they are?"

"I think we need to try and not jump to any conclusions," he said. "It could just be a huge coincidence."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," I shivered slightly and then moved to pick up Kate who had been happily playing on the floor at our feet. "But I don't know anyone in Clinton County and, even if I did, why would they be interested in my life here?"

Ben didn't say anything for a long moment. "You might need to think about who you _do_ know up there." He looked at me meaningfully. "_Really_ think about who you might know."

"What are you talking about?" I frowned. "I already said that I don't…"

"Where did he say the call originated from?"

"Dannemora."

"Right. Dannemora."

For a split second, I had no idea what he was trying to get at and then it suddenly became clear and oh so obvious.

Dannemora.

Clinton County Correctional Facility.


	14. Chapter 14

**Three days later**

I sat at my desk looking at the list of names in front of me and couldn't help replaying the conversation I had had with Elizabeth over in my head. At Evelyn's suggestion, I had called Mike later that Sunday to explain that Pamela had returned home and to apologise, somewhat, for my attitude. He had accepted this graciously and simply advised that he had notified the local precinct but would update them as to the current situation. I couldn't help but wonder however what he might have said to Elizabeth behind my back. I had then asked to speak to her and explained, somewhat stiltedly, that I would be grateful if she could recommend a potential therapist for myself.

"I'm so pleased Ben," she had said. "Not for one minute because I think you have some overwhelming urgent need for therapy, but just because I really believe that it would do you some good to talk about all the things that have happened over the last few years. You've been through a lot."

"Well it seems to have worked for Evelyn," I had replied. Then I had copied down the list of names she had provided and left it at that. Three days on and I hadn't yet worked up the courage to lift the phone and contact any of them. It wasn't that I was afraid to, or that I was even afraid of therapy itself, but making an appointment almost seemed like a recognition that there was something that needed talking about, and that was enough to unsettle me.

Ann Madsen. I needed to talk about her and with someone out with my immediate family. Her death still crushed me, even almost three years on, and try as I might to absolve myself, it seemed impossible to move on.

The attack at the Algonquin, the shooting and the loss of our baby. That was something worth discussing too. Every time I thought about those incidents, all I could feel was my own inadequacy at not being able to protect Evelyn, the mother of my child, and of being so helpless whilst Edward, and those connected to him, tried to destroy her.

Peter and Pamela. The guilt I still felt over how much of their lives I had missed over the years because I had been so dedicated to a job that, ultimately, I had failed at and which I was now trying desperately to claw back was also conversation-worthy. Not to mention, my feelings on Pamela's new relationship.

London, and all that had happened there…I swivelled my chair around to look out of the window. I tried not to think too deeply about that time in our lives. It held so many dark memories of how in despair Evelyn was, not to mention the fact that I didn't like to dwell on what had happened when we had been apart.

Just as I was trying to weigh up whether a female or male therapist would be better, particularly in light of my feelings about London, the door opened, and Vanessa appeared. "Well I finally managed to get hold of Holbrook's attorney," she said. "For someone who was so keen for a sit down, he's awfully hard to communicate with. He says he can bring his client in this afternoon."

"What do we have to put to him?" I asked, sliding the list of names under my blotter.

"You really want the girl?"

"I want both of them, don't you?"

"Of course, but I would hate for it to be perceived that we're looking to deal him down just because of who he is." She sat down opposite me. "You heard Shambala Green's passionate plea that her client was merely following Mr Holbrook's lead."

"Maybe it was his idea and maybe they planned it together, but it was her prints on the gun. If anyone shot her parents, it was her."

"But you said yourself that the prints could have gotten there at any time."

"Vanessa…if Francesca _didn't_ shoot her parents then why are her prints the last ones on the gun? Why weren't they wiped clean? Why aren't Mr Holbrook's prints there if it was him? Why didn't they wear gloves?" I cocked my head to one side. "If you don't think that she's culpable, what's your take on this case?"

"I never said that I didn't think she was culpable. I told Ms Green as much, you heard me." She sighed. "I don't know…the more I read about Mason Holbrook, the less I like him. He's all over the society pages thinking that he's God's gift to the world. Money, women, cars…he's got everything. His parents have made sure of that." She paused. "Has his mother made any approaches towards Evelyn?"

I shook my head, "There's a board meeting this afternoon. I suppose if Mrs Holbrook is going to make any plea on behalf of her son, she'll do it there." I thought back to when I had told Evelyn about the possibility of Mason's mother attempting to exert influence over her and, subsequently, me and she had assured me that she would be able to handle it. "I suppose there's no harm in sounding Holbrook and his attorney out. If he has information about Francesca then we at least ought to hear it, right?"

"Sure, he said he'd come in at three."

"Fine."

She got to her feet and headed for the door before pausing and turning back. "Can I ask you something personal?" I looked up at her. "You and Evelyn…I know you've not been together that long in the grand scheme of things but…you have a child together and you live with your other children…do you…I mean…do you trust her?"

Of all the things I was expecting her to say, it hadn't been that and, for a moment, I found myself at a loss as to what to say. "Yes, I trust her, why do you ask?"

"I don't know, it's just…" she looked away and shook her head. "Things aren't great between Steve and I at the moment and I just kept help but think that…well…that there might be somebody else."

Her expression appeared genuine and, leaving aside why she might have connected her feelings about her husband's fidelity with my own wife, I took off my glasses and got to my feet. "I'm sorry to hear that. What makes you think he's being unfaithful?"

"Long hours at the office…business trips at the last minute…I don't know, maybe I'm just being crazy. I feel as though the kids and I never see him and, when we do, he's in a different world. We've been together so long that the thought of him cheating is…I don't know what it is."

"Uh…well, I worked very long hours and barely saw my wife and kids the first time around, but I wasn't unfaithful. Steve has a very high powered, stressful job from what you've said." I recalled a conversation we had had not that long ago when she had told me that he was the CEO of a large oil company. "Maybe you should work on your communication with each other before you start jumping to all sorts of conclusions." As I said the words, I couldn't help but think how ironic it was that I was giving advice, of any sort, when I felt as though I needed therapy for my own situation.

"Maybe you're right," she sighed heavily. "He _is_ pretty busy right now and, let's face it, I have no evidence to support my theory of infidelity other than my own massive assumptions. Thanks for that. I think I'll see if we can get some child-free time this weekend to talk things over. Having all the kids around all the time can be exhausting, as I'm sure you know."

"Vanessa?" I stopped her as she turned to leave again. "Why did you ask specifically if I trusted Evelyn?"

"She's your wife, Steve's my husband…I guess I was just looking for a comparison." She frowned. "There's nothing wrong there, is there?"

"No, not at all." I waited until she had left my office and then sat back down again, sliding the list of names back into view. I recalled the afternoon when Evelyn had come into my office, holding a similar piece of paper with names on it given to her by her divorce attorney. I remembered telling her that I thought Elizabeth would be the best choice for her then later that same day agreeing to go for dinner with her which had then led to our first kiss.

Who would ever have known what had been to come?

XXXX

"You think that it's someone she knows? Someone she represented?" Adam leaned back in his chair and looked at me as I filled him in on the events of the weekend, returned as he was from a trip to Washington. "Seems like an awful lot of effort for some jumped up felon with half a braincell to go to."

"The fact that the call came from Dannemora and that the letters were posted from Clinton County…" I shook my head, "it's only a theory."

"Was she able to think of anybody?"

"Not right away, but she said that she was going to speak to Shambala Green today or tomorrow, see if she thought it could be anybody Evelyn represented at the PD's office."

"What about when she worked in Brooklyn?"

"It's another possibility."

"What do you think?"

"Honestly?" I sat down in the chair opposite his desk. "I don't know. It could be someone up there or it could be someone just trying to make it look that way. Hell…" I shook my head and smiled wryly. "It could be Philip Swann for all I know."

"Ben, I think you have to think practically about this Swann issue," Adam said. When I had told him earlier about my suspicions over Andrew's true identity, he hadn't been convinced, choosing to agree with Evelyn that the possibility seemed remote. "I thought you were going to just ask the boy outright."

"I haven't had the chance. Pam's still grounded, and she hasn't asked to have him over again yet. Not to mention the fact it's hardly something I want to do over the phone."

"So, take the initiative. Invite the boy over or arrange to meet him somewhere and ask him."

I paused. It sounded so simple in my own mind and even when Adam said it, but part of me couldn't help but wonder if by doing so, I would just make myself out to look crazy. And what if there was no connection? How would I ever explain to Andrew_ or_ Pamela why I had been suspicious without having to explain my past connections with Swann?

"Even if he _isn't_ Swann's son," I mused, "I'm still not convinced that I'm happy for him to be dating Pamela."

"Because he's nineteen or because they're having sex?"

"Both."

"Well you can't stop them."

"The police could."

"And we've been down this road already," he shook his head. "You've worked hard to rebuild your relationship with Pamela. Don't ruin it over this, it's not worth it. Anyway, what's happening with the Minetti murder?"

"Mason Holbrook's coming in with his lawyer later this afternoon for a sit down."

"You think he's going to offer a plea?"

"No, I think he's going to try and persuade us to drop the charges if he rolls on his girlfriend. We have the most evidence against her at this point."

"What does your gut tell you?"

"That they're in it together but that he's conveniently letting her take the fall."

"Well, if you can get any kind of decent plea out of either of them, take it."

"Adam, the parents had their hands and feet removed," I reminded him. "This isn't your standard familial murder. There's something depraved about the whole thing. I just can't put my finger on it right now."

"Who's representing Holbrook anyway?"

"Trevor Langan."

"Ha!" Adam chuckled, "Good luck with that one."

XXXX

I didn't know Langan that well. I knew he had spent a number of years plying his trade on Wall Street and Park Avenue, but that experience hadn't ever really brought him into my arena. He had been pleasant enough any time we _had_ had cause to meet, but something in his expression when he and Mason Holbrook walked into my office that afternoon, left me in no doubt that he wasn't here to roll over.

Holbrook himself was a good looking boy. Tall, dark and muscular with an air that he was aware of his attributes and wasn't ashamed to use them. It was all to easy to see what Francesca Minetti, indeed any girl, would have found appealing about him.

"Thank you for seeing us," Langan said, as they both sat down. "I know you're a busy man."

"This is your meeting."

"Uh, no actually, your assistant called my office and asked us to come in," he swivelled his gaze to Vanessa. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to come back to you."

"You indicated last that you wanted to sit down with us," she reminded him icily.

"Well. I suppose it doesn't really matter how we got here the fact is, we're here." He smiled. "So, what are you offering?"

"That depends on what your client wants to say." I looked at Holbrook who coolly met my gaze.

"I didn't do anything," he said.

"We can place you at Ms Minetti's home at the time of the murder," I reminded him. "We have witnesses…"

"Those two old crones from next door? They wouldn't know a…"

"Mason…" Langan touched his arm gently. "We both know, Stone, that whether or not my client was at the scene at the time of the murder doesn't prove one way or the other that he was involved."

"We have forensics…"

"He's her boyfriend, of course he visited the house. It would be stranger if you _didn't _have evidence of him being there. But I've seen the ballistics report the same as you have. The only prints on the murder weapon belong to Ms Minetti. The only person with a motive, is Ms Minetti."

"The motive being what?" I asked.

"Fran hated her parents," Mason said. "She hated how they treated her, how they made her feel like a kid. They seemed to have a problem with her dating me."

"And why was that?"

"I don't know. I guess they didn't like the fact that she wanted to drop out of college, the fact that I was older, more experienced…" he raised his eyebrows at me, and I couldn't help feel a sick parallel between Minetti and Holbrook and Pamela and Andrew.

"And because of that, she shot them and then removed their hands and feet?" Vanessa asked. "Seems a bit extreme for a young woman who was angry that her parents didn't like her boyfriend."

"So, what are you actually saying, Mr Holbrook?" I leaned forwards across my desk. "You weren't there? You didn't see anything? You weren't involved?"

"She talked about killing her parents," Mason said, "I never took her seriously but then…she calls me and tells me that she did it."

"She confessed to you?" He nodded. "What exactly did she say?"

"She said that she couldn't take it from them anymore and that she had shot them." He glanced at his lawyer. "I have it on tape."

"Tape?"

"I recorded the call."

Langan reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small cassette. "Have a listen to this. I think it'll tell you all you need to know." He placed it on my desk and then got to his feet. "Come on Mason, we're done here. Call us when you're ready to dismiss the charges."

"Now, wait a minute…"

"If you want him to testify against the girl, he gets total immunity, or you get nothing. I look forward to your call."

XXXX

"I did it Mason…I did it…" Francesca Minetti's voice floated across Adam's office from the tape recorder hastily sourced once Holbrook and his attorney had left.

"You did what?" Mason replied.

"I killed them…I shot them…I killed them both…God, it was such a relief…" She let out a long breath. "They're dead and…and it's such a relief. I knew it was the right thing to do, right from the moment I squeezed the trigger. God, I feel so good, so complete…."

I switched off the recorder. "You don't get a better confession than that."

"Yeah…only she didn't know she was being recorded."

"That doesn't matter," Vanessa said. "New York is a one-party state. So long as Holbrook was consenting, it doesn't matter what Minetti knew or didn't know."

"Thank you for that lesson in wire-tapping. Did you call Shambala Green?"

"I left a message," I replied. "I told her to get back to me as soon as possible. With this tape, there's no way she can argue that her client is innocent."

"Seems awful convenient," Adam remarked. "And why has he held this back until now? Why didn't he give the tape to the cops? Why didn't he offer it up immediately after he was arraigned?"

"I don't know, he's arrogant. Maybe he liked the idea of having something that we didn't have."

"Something that might have proved his innocence?"

"It doesn't prove his innocence," Vanessa said. "all it does it prove that Francesca shot her parents. It doesn't mean that Holbrook wasn't involved. You heard the way he spoke about Francesca, that she hated her parents because they didn't like the fact that she was dating him. He already has a high opinion of himself. You think he kept those feelings to himself?"

"Let's see what Ms Green has to say," I replied. "If we can get this neatly wrapped up, then I'm not going to try and keep it unravelled."

"I don't know…" Vanessa said, as we walked back around to my office. "There's something about this whole thing I just don't like."

"You don't like Holbrook."

"No, I don't. I don't like how fake he is, and I don't like how he clearly loves the fact that Francesca was enthralled with him. He's involved somehow and I don't want to see him walk away from this unscathed."

"If he didn't do anything wrong…"

"Oh come on, Ben, what if _he_ was dating Pamela instead of this Andrew character you've been all steamed up about? You're saying that you wouldn't have concerns?"

I paused, knowing that she was right on some level at least. "Talk to some of Francesca's friends, see if they can give you any more information about their relationship. Maybe there's something there that we can use." She nodded and turned to her own desk while I proceeded into my office. I slid the list of names out from under my blotter again and looked at them all carefully, before selecting one at random and lifting the phone.


End file.
